Mad World: Temp Working Title
by C.A. Connor
Summary: When a beautiful woman on the lam arrives at the V.A., Murdock discovers a whole new kind of crazy to add to his resumé. Some strong language & detailed but tasteful! descriptions of sexual situations
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Welcome to my fanfic, unfolding in chapter-by-chapter updates, and now nearing completion. Charlie, Mutton, Vivian, Jake, and some of the more incidental players are original characters created by me, and the story is not based on or set in relation to any specific A-Team plot line. I also realize that in all likelihood, the V.A. ward Murdock's in is probably all-male, so suspend your disbelief a little. This is my very first fanfic, so feedback is always welcome!_

_11/11/08: In response to a fair amount of criticism about the logisitics of my Witness Protection premise, I've revised the story with a slightly different premise. Enjoy!_

_01/08/09: Reposted Chapter 1, solely because I decided to change the name of Rick's brother._

"Forget it, Jake, I'm not doing this."

Snapping shut the folder she had been reading, Charlotte Burchell tossed it onto her handler's huge mahogany desk, turning a defiant face toward the man seated across from her.

Jake Gains released a long sigh and ran a frustrated hand through his thick, dark hair. "Charlie, do you or do you not want to put away Rick Torres for good?"

Charlie adopted a face that hinted at petulance. "Yes, of course, but-"

"And do you agree," Jake continued, overriding her objection, "that your testimony is critical to accomplishing that goal?"

"Yeah, Jake, you know I do, but how do you expect-"

Again she was cut off. "And the moment you were deemed ineligible for the Witness Protection Program, you and I agreed that we needed to find an alternative," Jake reminded her matter-of-factly.

Charlie jerked forward in her chair. "Jake, I don't need a review of the facts. I know just as well as you do what it is that's at stake here. I have every intention of walking into that courtroom a few months from now, and telling the jury every single, terrifying detail I know about Rick and the rest of those bastards. And I also know I need your protection while I wait for our justice system to get it together and jail these monsters."

Jake leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands together and laying them on his ample stomach. "So then what is the problem here, Charlie? What, you don't trust me to keep you safe?"

Charlotte snatched the file back from Jake's desk and waved it in his face. "You want to keep me safe in a Veteran's Hospital psych ward!" Charlie exploded. "You want to stick me in a nut house so I can be surrounded by lunatics! I bet I have to spend mornings talking about my issues in group therapy circles to a bunch of loonies, and afternoons making pottery ashtrays to express myself!" Charlie's voice rose as images formed in her mind of one worst-case-scenario after another. "I bet the rooms have bars on the windows! I bet I'll need to ask permission to go to the bathroom, for God's sake! Oh my God, do they still use electro-shock therapy? No, Jake," Charlie said, shaking her head, "no! There's got to be somewhere else."

Jake sighed again. "Well, if there is, I don't know where it would be." He had anticipated some resistance here, but Charlotte's outrage was greater than he had expected. "Charlie, look," Jake began in a tone bordering on pleading. "The Attorney General has made its decision, and Rick has made bail. We both know Rick will do whatever it takes to keep your testimony out of the courtroom. The Attorney General may not see the immediate danger here, but I sure as hell do. Lucky for you, I've got a buddy from college who's the intake officer at the V.A. It took some doing, but he agreed to get you admitted on the basis of a lovely little fake case file he helped me pt together for you."

"Yeah, I get your point Jake, but consider this: I know that no matter where I go, I can't communicate with any of my family and friends until my testimony is over and done with. But I also assumed that wherever I went, I would at least have the luxury of forming new relationships to compensate for all the ones I was losing! I mean, we are talking about months here where I won't be able to hold one single reasonable, sane conversation. Months!" she cried, hands gesturing frantically to emphasize her words.

"Well, you're not wrong," Jake conceded. "But it's a sacrifice you're going to have to make, Charlie. I think the V.A. is perfect hideout. First of all, the V.A. policy has always been that job applicants have to submit to a thorough background check, and all patients have to prove they're military, which Rick wasn't. Second of all, they've got cameras all over the place to keep an eye on patients, so Rick can't sneak in without being noticed. I couldn't put you in a more secure environment."

Jake rose from his seat, moving around the desk toward Charlie. He lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I need you to trust me here, Charlie," he said, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone. "It's only a few months. A few months of unpleasantness, sure. But on the other side of it is complete freedom. Once you testify, we can put Rick and his brothers away for good, and trust me, they won't be going after anyone from an eight-by-twelve cell. Then you can go back to your normal life. No looking over your shoulder every time you leave your house. No more nightmares about one of those Torres boys getting to you. You put in a few months at the V.A., and once you're done, you can get your life back, paranoia-free and with limitless possibilities to choose from to find happiness." Jake gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Besides Charlie, we would hate to lose our best witness, so you know the plan is foolproof." Jake flashed her a wry grin.

Charlie was silent for a moment, clearly processing Jake's words, weighing them against her own fears.

She let out a long breath, and her defeated slump told Jake she had been convinced. "I don't suppose it would make any difference if I told you I was never in the military," she said dryly.

Jake grinned. "Clearly, you are forgetting your service as a field nurse, Ms. Burchell. In fact, there are those who say your service was invaluable in bringing about several victories for lots of grateful soldiers." Standing, Charlie rolled her eyes and headed for the door to Jake's office. "It's just too bad you've been having all those flashbacks lately," he said, smiling wide as Charlie paused at the door her hand hovering over the knob.

She turned back towards Jake momentarily, her face a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. "I swear to God, if this asylum winds up making me crazy," she said, opening the office door, "I will personally come back here and kick your ass, Jake," she shot back at him as she left the room.

Jake let out a chuckle. "I'm counting on it!" he called out to her retreating form.

*****

H.M. Murdock awoke as he did most mornings, feeling a split-second of bliss before his mind shook off the fog of sleep and the reality of his life came rushing back to him. He let out a groan as he reached his arms above his head and twisted through a full-body stretch before sitting up and swinging his long legs over the edge of the bed. Though sunlight streamed through the window of his modest-sized room in the V.A. psychiatric ward, his surroundings held their usual air of dreary, institutional blandness. The room itself presented varying shades of gray from top to bottom. The walls surrounding Murdock were made of nothing more than cinderblocks and mortar, with a redundant coat of slate gray paint slopped over them; the floors were bleak, cold cement, poured and treated to make them liveable. The room's sparse furnishings were equally unremarkable. A basic, squat dresser with aluminium drawers sat against a wall opposite from the bed, situated below a fairly small oval wall mirror. Across the room, a beat-up desk sat in a poorly-lit corner, accompanied by a cheap folding chair. The only other piece of furniture was a plain, stout night table made of inexpensive fibre board, askew on wobbly legs next to Murdock's bed.

Still, Captain Murdock had made the effort to make the room somewhat less depressing, if for no other reason than to prevent his finicky sanity from tumbling any further into instability. A few posters served to break up the monotony: a roguish Steve McQueen and an exuberant Creedence Clearwater Revival in concert allowed Murdock to bring at least some of the world outside the V.A. into his daily life. A small plastic basketball net suction-cupped over his desk and an arcade style Pacman unit added to the effect.

Rubbing his neck to alleviate a stiffness which had set in as he slept, Murdock finally rose and trudged across his room to his small ensuite bathroom. Twisting the faucet, he splashed cool water over his face and reached for his toothbrush. Murdock was just rinsing the last bit of toothpaste from his mouth when he heard an impatient knock at his door.

"Doc! Hey, Doc! C'mere!" came the voice outside the door.

Recognizing the voice behind the command, Murdock frowned at his own reflection, wishing desperately that he could have at least one cup of coffee before dealing with his fellow patient.

He walked slowly towards his door, the knocking now an uninterrupted steady staccato. He swung the door open.

"Hi, Mutton. Look," Murdock said, a hint of exasperation in his voice, "I keep telling you, I'm not a doctor. It's **Mur**dock. There's a whole other syllable before the doctor part."

"You don't fool me, Doc," Mutton countered. "I know the government sends out secret doctors for surveillance, and they keep track of 'em by throwing the word 'doc' in their names."

"Right," Murdock sighed, knowing from experience how futile it would be to argue with Mutton. Mutton had arrived at the V.A. shortly after Murdock had moved in, and the two men had developed a strong friendship soon after Mutton's arrival.

Short and wiry, Mutton had an almost comical appearance about him. His thick, white hair was permanently frizzy and stuck out at endless crazy angles, causing the man to look like he was wearing a poorly pruned bush as a hat. He moved with a bouncing gait that could only be described as skipping, and seemed determined to wear the loudest colors he could, in the most mismatched manner that he could.

"So what was it you were pounding on my door about, Mutton?" Murdock asked, returning to the subject at hand.

Mutton looked for a moment as though he had forgotten the reason behind his visit, then snapped his fingers when it came back to him. "Oh yeah!" he said. "You've got a new neighbour!"

Murdock looked confused for a moment. "We get new people in here all the time, Mutton. This is why you came by so early?"

"Well, yes…" Mutton began, grinning. "But trust me, you've never had a neighbour like this before."

"Really," Murdock said with a shrewd look. "And why do you figure that is?"

"I'm telling you, Doc, you wanna go introduce yourself. Trust me."

"Well, I guess I kind of have to now – too much curiosity to ignore." Murdock started to leave, but Mutton put a hand up.

"No, wait, Doc. Before you do, you'd better get dressed. And for God's sake, comb your hair."

Murdock cast a glance downward, and realized he was still dressed in his blue and white striped flannel pyjama pants, and indeed, didn't even have a shirt on. "What, I gotta get dolled-up to meet a fellow crazy?"

"Like I said Doc, just trust me. Get dressed, head over, and come see me when the job's done." With that, Mutton smiled mischievously before turning and skipping down the hall, headed back to his own room.

Shrugging to no one, Murdock headed for his dresser and wondered what kind of new patient would get Mutton so worked up.

*****

By the time Murdock took the thirty-second trip to the room adjacent his, he had still not come up with any plausible theory about what kind of neighbour Mutton would find so exciting.

As Murdock approached the room, he saw that the door was slightly ajar. When he reached the room's entrance, he raised a hand to knock, but paused just before his knuckles hit the door as he caught a slight glimpse of the figure within. On an inexplicable impulse, Murdock silently eased the door open instead.

His covert action revealed most of the room to him, but it was the figure on the far side of the room unpacking a box of books that caused a sharp intake of breath.

Murdock found himself staring at a beautiful woman settling in to her new room. Unloading her books into a small bedside bookcase, she had yet to notice Murdock's presence, leaving him free to thoroughly drink her in.

A cascade of auburn hair tumbled to the bottom of her should blades, a natural wave creating sporadic curls throughout. When she turned, Murdock saw that her face had a sun-kissed glow to it. High cheek bones gave her a regal appearance, as did the graceful curve of her neck, but Murdock could not make out her eyes from his current position. He could, however, see a pair of lush, rosy lips, and he instinctively wondered what it might be like to feel those lips beneath his own. Engrossed, his gaze wandered down her form, memorizing the curve of her breasts, the tiny waist, the sensual arc of her hips. She looked to be only slightly shorter than himself, and he gazed appreciatively at the long, slim legs, their shape clearly outlined by her tight denim jeans which flared only once they were halfway down her calves.

Transfixed by the irresistible sight of the creature before him, it took Murdock a moment to register that she had stopped moving and was staring directly at him. Her expression was not a welcoming one.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked crisply.

Murdock's brain seemed to suddenly freeze. Now that she was facing him, he became aware of the fact that he was staring into a pair of beautiful, sapphire blue eyes, rimmed by thick, long, dark lashes. "Um, I- I-," he stammered before giving his head a little shake and recalling the purpose behind his visit. "I wanted to come introduce myself," he said, finding his voice. "I'm your next door neighbour. H.M. Murdock," he said, sticking a hand out towards her for a greeting handshake. The woman did not move towards his outstretched hand, but instead turned back to her box of books and resumed unpacking.

"Duly noted," she said flatly.

Murdock was slightly puzzled by her response, or rather, lack of response. Perhaps she's nervous in a new place, he thought. He cleared his throat. "Well, I just figured I should come say hi, so you know where to go if you, like, need to borrow a cup of sugar, or squish a spider, or, you know, whatever."

"Yeah, I can kill my own spiders, thanks." Her response was cool and detached.

"Huh," Murdock said frowning, mildly surprised that such a beautiful woman would be concealing such an unfriendly attitude. Suddenly, a new thought occurred to him. "Wait, I know I'm in the psych ward, but I'm not a dangerous, or perverted, or creepy kind of crazy," he told her.

"Good to know," she replied with the same cold, dismissive voice.

Murdock finally threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine, fine, I get the message, sorry to have bothered you," he said with a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice. "But would it kill you to at least tell me your name?" he asked. "I mean, I did take the time to come over here and be rejected by you."

The woman finally returned her gaze to Murdock and sighed. "It's Charlie," she said, rushing ahead as she saw his mouth open to ask the usual question about her name. "Short for Charlotte. Charlie."

"Charlie," Murdock repeated with a nod. "Well, Charlie, I've made people a lot colder than you smile, so mark my words, I'll get to you too. Don't try to resist, Charlie," Murdock said with a smile. "Everyone eventually warms to me. I'm irresistible!"

With a final wink, Murdock turned and left Charlie's room, off to Mutton's room to relay the details of the encounter. Had he stayed a few more moments, he would have seen the tiny smile Charlie tried to desperately suppress.

*****

Charlie's first night in the V.A. was not going well. Although she had climbed into bed hours ago, she had quickly found herself staring at the ceiling, unable to sleep though she was exhausted, incapable of turning off the riot in her mind.

What in God's name had happened to her life? How had it all gone so wrong? Thinking back, she could not help but try to identify the moment which had marked the beginning of her slow descent into disaster.

It didn't take a genius to recognize that the flame that lit the fuse was Charlie's mother, though Charlie had been in denial about the matter for years. When Charlie was sixteen, she had awoken to discover that her mother was simply gone. With no goodbye and no warning, the departure had been devastating. Through tear-filled eyes, Charlie's father had told her that her mother had been involved with another man for nearly a year prior to her disappearance, and the purpose of her nocturnal exodus had been to run full force into the arms of this man, to begin a new life without reminders of or ties to her former one.

For a time, Charlotte had absolutely refused to believe her father's explanation. Surely a mother could not abandon her own child in such a cold and calculating manner. Charlie had insisted that she and her father report Charlie's mother to the police as a missing person. As months passed without word, however, Charlie had finally been forced to realize that her mother had in fact abandoned her, and the admission of the truth to herself had been crippling. She left school, holing herself up in her bedroom for days on end, emerging only to use the bathroom before retreating back into her isolation. There had been days where Charlie had done nothing but cry; there had been times when she had screamed with rage into the walls of her empty room. But when Charlie had finally accepted her now bleak reality and emerged from her room to resume her life in the outside world, she had discovered that it was not only her mother who had left, but her father as well.

Physically, Charlie's father was in the same place he had always been: he lived in the same house, he was employed in the same job. Mentally, however, his absence was just as evident as her mother's. He never ate, he barely slept. He sat in his room in the dark for hours on end, unmoving and unspeaking. Any time Charlie made an effort to talk to him, she was met only with silence, or an absent, "hmm." While most people her age grumbled about having to go to school, Charlie embraced her return after a six-month absence, not knowing where else to fulfil her desperate need for human contact.

With a complete absence of love and warmth in her life, it should have been no surprise to anyone then when she clung for dear life to the first boy who paid her any attention. Charlie had met Rick Torres in the coffee shop where she worked part-time at the age of seventeen. While an objective observer would have recognized immediately that he was dangerous and volatile, when Charlie looked at Rick she saw a person who might provide her with the love she so desperately needed.

Once they began dating, it didn't take long for Rick to reveal his true colors. He was controlling and had a hair-trigger temper. The loving words and poetic compliments he had used to draw Charlie to him at the onset of the relationship disappeared almost immediately once they had established their status as a couple. Rick replaced those words and compliments with demeaning, degrading comments, constantly calling Charlie horrible names, ordering her around like a dog, decimating her self-esteem. But Charlie could not fathom going back to her former life to face the isolation and emptiness, and instead, convinced herself that Rick really did love her, and if she only tried harder, everything would be wonderful.

As the relationship progressed, however, Charlie found it increasingly difficult to deny her problems with Rick. He and his three brothers began a drug dealing operation, moving massive quantities of heroin and cocaine on the street. Seduced by the easy money drug dealing brought in, Rick and his brothers began expanding the operation at an alarming rate. They lured teenagers with the promise of money, employing them to do the selling while Rick and his brothers worked behind the scenes, acquiring more and more heroin and cocaine, then hiring more and more teenagers to move it.

Still, Charlie stood by silently, afraid of Rick's reaction should she voice her concern about his "business", and knowing that turning to the police would be akin to signing her own death warrant.

It was a mild Spring evening when the bottom dropped out of Charlie's life.

She and Rick were spending a rare evening alone together, heading to _Bellos_, a nearby Italian restaurant. Conversation was sparse as they drove, with Rick being uninterested in anything Charlie might have to say, and Charlie afraid she might say the wrong thing and set him off. Charlie remembered that for some reason, in the dead air of the car, she had been wracking her brain, trying to recall what had happened to Ray Liotta's wife at the end of _Goodfellas_.

Just before they arrived at the restaurant, the suffocating silence had been vanquished by the piercing ring of Rick's car phone. The car had swerved slightly as Rick had fumbled to answer the call. Cursing, he finally brought the receiver to his ear. "Yeah?" he snarled. There was a brief pause, and as he listened, Rick's face slowly contorted with rage. "What?" he barked. "No man, fuck that, man. No, fuck it! You keep that little bitch right there for me, man, I'm on my way." Rick slammed the phone down, and Charlie reflexively grabbed for the door arm to brace herself as Rick stomped on the brakes, which let out a high-pitched squeal as the car began to spin and Rick launched into a reckless u-turn.

"Sorry baby, we gotta make a quick stop."

Though she couldn't put her finger on why, Charlie felt an overwhelming apprehension about this 'stop'. "Can't we do it after dinner?"

Rick rounded on her with a black look. "Did I ask you to bitch and moan? I got something to take care of, and we're doin' it now, so just shut up and let me deal with my business."

Charlie remained catatonic for the duration of the frenzied drive. When Rick finally brought the car to a halt, she was not entirely surprised to find herself at the end of a dark ally. Peering out of the window, Charlie could make out the dim outline of Rick's brother Reggie, and a shorter figure who appeared to be one of the teenage boys who ran Rick's drugs. "Don't move," Rick ordered her, before slamming the car door and moving determinedly towards the other two already in the alley. Through the half-opened driver's side window, Charlie caught snippets of the conversation.

"What you think you can steal from me, bitch?" snarled Rick poking a finger into the boy's chest. "Huh? You think you can sample the merchandise? Or maybe you lifted some shit and tried to make your own money on the side, huh?"

The boy's response was too low for Charlie to hear any specific words, but the boy's voice was certainly trembling and pleading, his hands making frantic gestures in an effort to convince Rick of his innocence.

Charlie suddenly caught a glint off something metal, and realized with terror Rick had pulled a gun, and she watched as he levelled the gun at the boy's head. Before she had processed what was happening, she heard a sharp bang, saw the boy's head jerk back before seemingly exploding, pinkish matter bursting from the back of the boy's head and spattering across the wall behind him. The figure slumped to the ground. Rick calmly returned his gun to the holster beneath his jacket and kicked the boy in a prodding manner to make sure he wouldn't be going anywhere.

Desperate to scream but suddenly forgetting how, Charlie instead opened the passenger side door just wide enough to throw up onto the pavement below before shutting it again, trembling and in shock. Rick returned to the car. With an eerie calm, he glanced over at Charlie and said, "Alright, all set? Man, I am starving!"

Somehow, Charlie had actually gone out to dinner with Rick that night, terrified and stunned, although she had absolutely no memory of doing so.

In fact, it was the middle of the night when Charlie's brain finally processed the reality of what she had seen. Without doubt or hesitation, the moment she reached this clarity, she had run fifteen full blocks at three in the morning to the nearest police station.

Her recounting of what she had seen, as frantic and hysterical as her retelling was, and her immediate agreement to testify to it in court had been necessary and just, as far as she was concerned. The moment Rick had made bail though, the realization that she had put herself in mortal danger had come to pass. This, of course, had resulted in her current living arrangement in a room where she was now finding sleep a futile pursuit.

She found her mind now returning to the man who had introduced himself to her that afternoon as her neighbour. It was not in her nature to be cruel or cold to people, and she hated that she had been forced to adopt such a persona with him. The reality, Charlie realized, was that between now and her trial date, associating with anyone beyond mere pleasantries would endanger lives, and drag people into the perilous threat swirling around her like a contagious disease.

Rubbing her eyes, Charlie resigned herself to the fact that she was about to spend a few very lonely months.

*****

The next morning, Charlie awoke after a restless night's sleep to a world that seemed bent on cheering her up. The sun hung brightly in a cloudless sky, and the temperature was reminiscent of late Spring. Feeling more certain than ever about her need for solitude, she was nevertheless lured outside by the uplifting quality of the day, and decided there was no way she was spending it indoors. She rose and dressed, brushing her teeth, applying a slight touch of makeup, and gathering her hair into a long ponytail, leaving her long tresses to float down her back. She grabbed a book and headed for the garden, stopping briefly by the dining room to grab a huge coffee and a bagel. Once outside, she headed for a mammoth oak tree, and settled under it to read while enjoying her breakfast.

She was roused from her immersion in her book a short while later, her attention drawn by a nearby familiar voice. Looking up, she spotted the neighbour she had met yesterday, who was standing a slight distance away, in animated conversation with a man who had introduced himself to her yesterday as 'Mutton'.

Try as she might to refocus on her book, she was distracted by an overwhelming need to study the man who she had heard nurses refer to simply as 'Murdock'. Tall and slim, he possessed a lean-muscled swimmer's body, which she had always found far more attractive than a thick, bulky, body-builder's physique. The navy blue baseball cap he wore could not conceal his handsome features; his strong, angular jaw line and definitive Roman nose combined with his high cheekbones to create a rather stately appearance. From beneath the hat, Charlie could see wisps of golden-brown hair, curling wistfully near the top of his neck. The hair looked so soft and inviting to Charlie than she had the sudden urge to run her fingers through it.

His trim form was emphasized by a close-fitting retro t-shirt in pale blue, displaying an unfamiliar logo with the word 'dinky' inexplicably splashed across it. The whimsy of the shirt was countered by a supple leather flight jacket that hardly seemed necessary on a day like today. Well-worn khakis hugged his slim hips, pooling around a pair of classic high-top converse sneakers.

As though sensing her appraisal, Murdock suddenly turned to look at her. Charlie felt a split second of panic before quickly darting her eyes back to the book she was now only pretending to read. She glanced up in what she hoped was a covert manner, and caught a brief glimpse of him dismissing Mutton before he turned and headed over to where she was sitting. She tried desperately to appear engrossed in her book.

Within moments, his purposeful stride had carried him across the lawn and into the inviting shade of the tree where Charlie sat. Clearing his throat, he gestured to a spot on the ground next to her. "Is this dirt taken?" he asked with a grin.

_Did he have that Texan twang yesterday?_ Charlie wondered to herself, realizing that she was currently finding the accent undeniably sexy. She tried to sound aloof as she shrugged and said, "knock yourself out," before turning back to her book.

Murdock lowered himself down until he was sitting next to her, leaning his back up against the oak's wide trunk, and stretching long legs out in front of him. A contented sigh escaped his mouth. "So, what are you in for?" he asked genially, turning to look at her.

Charlie became aware of a tingling warmth within herself, and realized she was reacting to his scent, carried towards her on the day's soft breeze. He smelled of cedar and leather, a heady mixture chiselling away her resolve to act distant. "Umm… flashbacks." Not wanting to be a complete liar, she added, "and anxiety."

"'Nam?"

"Uh, yeah. Field nurse."

"Where were you stationed?" he inquired.

She was silent for a minute before replying, "It's not something I like to talk about." She found she could not bring herself to construct lies about her role in a war that he had actually experienced the horrors of. It felt exploitive and dishonourable. Searching for a way to turn the conversation away from herself, she asked, "and you?"

"'Nam, too. I was the best damn chopper pilot there ever was. If it had wings, I could fly it."

Hearing the pride in his voice, Charlie finally turned to look at him, and immediately regretted the decision. She was staring into the warm invitation of his golden-brown eyes, which sparkled with mischief and promise. The long dark lashes around his eyes gave them a quality of infinite depth, but it was the hint of desire she saw within them that brought a flush to her cheeks. With determined effort, she tore her gaze from him. "Actually, I was asking what you're in for."

"Ah. You mean besides cheap room and board?"

Charlie nodded.

"Mostly delusions. I occasionally see things I'm told aren't there. Lately, I haven't seen them much – I think they're stress-induced."

Allowing her curiosity to get the better of her, she asked, "Seeing anything out of the ordinary now?"

Turning his head and full upper body towards her, he caught and held her gaze before saying, "Just an extraordinarily beautiful woman."

Again Charlie felt her cheeks flush, and for a long moment, could not turn away. She found herself strangely desperate to feel his hands on her, his arms around her, his lips upon her. It took every ounce of strength she had to resist acting on her impulsive desires.

She finally turned away and squinted towards the sun. Looking ahead with a steady gaze she asked, "What's Mutton's story?" in a voice she hoped sounded normal.

Murdock sighed, recognizing the brief moment of intimacy had passed. "He's a paranoid Schizophrenic. Convinced the government's got it in for him. I find it easier to play along with him rather than take the time to disabuse him of his theories. Otherwise, he's the nicest guy. He's the kind of guy you'd totally want to meet for a beer and a game of pool on the outside."

"The outside?" Charlie was puzzled.

"Yeah, you know the outside, the rest of the world outside this funny farm." Murdock made a sweeping gesture at their surroundings. "So who'd you leave behind on the outside?" he inquired, hoping what he was really trying to find out wasn't overly obvious. _Girl this gorgeous can't be single,_ he thought.

"Hmm, well, my dad's out there, but we aren't all that close right now." The tinge of sadness in her voice told Murdock there was much more to that situation than she was letting on. "And an older brother I miss already," she continued, a wistful smile turning her lips up at the corners. "But, I figure I should be able to see him soon enough."

"And your mom?"

"Left us." Charlie said in a clipped tone, a cloud drifting across her face immediately.

"Oh, Charlie, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked. I was prying." His eyes flashed genuine remorse.

"No, no, don't worry about it, Murdock. You didn't know," she reassured him. It was the first time he had heard her actually say his name, and for some reason hearing it on her lips sent a little thrill down his spine.

"What, uh… what about… is there like a husband, or a boyfriend out there?" Murdock asked, looking everywhere but at her.

_Is he actually nervous?_ Charlie wondered with amusement, and bit her bottom lip to suppress a grin. "Nope, not anymore," she responded casually. "I mean, I was never married, but just before I came here I left a really rotten boyfriend." Charlie's tone became grimmer. "Or to be more accurate, I escaped from a really rotten boyfriend."

Murdock immediately understood the subtext and without thinking, reached out and laid his hand across Charlie's, his eyes gazing probingly into her own. "I'm sorry that happened to you. You strike me as the kind of woman who ought to be worshipped. Whatta moron that guy must've been." Though he had tried to end on a note of mild levity, the sorrow and compassion in his eyes was palpable. His thumb moved absently back and forth across her hand.

For a split-second, Charlie surrendered, and let his comforting words and soothing touch wash over her. Fighting her attraction to Murdock was exhausting. Unwittingly, Rick's image flashed into her mind a moment later, and she withdrew her hand from Murdock's, struck hard by the jolt back to reality. "Um, thanks," she blurted out. She wanted nothing more than to fling herself into his arms and give in to the safety of his concern and sincerity, which was exactly why she knew she had to get away from him immediately. She began to clumsily gather her things.

"You're leaving?" Murdock asked, his confusion and disappointment reflected in his question.

"Yeah, um…" Charlie trailed off and stood. "Yeah, sorry, Murdock, I gotta go take care of some things."

Jumping to his feet, Murdock responded, "Well, wait, you want some help?" His voice was clearly pleading.

"No, no thanks, I'm good," Charlie answered, backing away even as she answered. "I'm sorry, but, uh… thanks for the chat," she called over her shoulder as she turned and hurried towards the main building.

With a frown, Murdock ambled off to look for Mutton. When he had touched her hand, he had been sure he felt a flash of electricity between them, but perhaps it had only been wishful thinking on his part.

*****

It was about an hour after he'd finished dinner when Murdock found himself hurtling the day's newspaper across the room with a grunt of frustration. He had read the same paragraph six times, and yet each time he got to the end of it, he would realize that he didn't have a clue what he'd just read. He finally conceded that there was only one thing his brain was capable of focusing on that night: Charlie.

He had been anticipating seeing her in the dining hall that evening for dinner, but when the time came to eat, there was no trace of Charlie anywhere. On his way back to his own room after dinner, he had moseyed very slowly past her room, but the door had been shut, and he was afraid knocking might make him look a little desperate.

Now that he'd given up on the paper, he reclined in his bed and allowed his mind to do unfettered what it had been trying to do all afternoon: replaying the day's conversation with Charlie over and over again.

Her long legs, her black v-neck t-shirt, the hint of melody in her voice, the incredible strawberry smell of her shampoo, had all been tattooed on his brain. Just the thought of her under that tree with the sunlight caressing her, and the ethereal beauty of those stunning blue eyes he'd looked into was enough to make him consider a cold shower. Every time those eyes had locked with his, Murdock had felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him.

The desire to feel her in his arms, to draw her body up against his own, to know the taste of her beckoning lips was almost too overwhelming to bear. Murdock could not remember ever having been this enthralled with a woman before.

Of course, it had been some time since Murdock had been granted the luxury of spending more than a fleeting moment with a woman. He supposed he should have anticipated such a consequence when he and three friends had formed the A-Team.

Though Murdock was not wanted by the military for arrest, his three teammates were in fact fugitives, meaning they spent their existence on the run, staying in a place just long enough to help those in need before dashing back to their life on the lam. Once in a rare while, Murdock managed a quick roll in the hay before splitting, but the experience was consistently one of biological need, devoid of any serious emotion. After a time in fact, such encounters had become hollow and depressing; these days, Murdock actively avoided opportunities for such connections more often than not when he was on a job with the Team.

Just the mere thought of Charlie in his bed, though… the mental image alone set Murdock's heart racing and caused him to break out in a sweat. All that golden skin laid bare, her glorious hair tumbling across his pillow…

At that moment, the shrill ring of his phone jolted him from the vivid images beginning to unfold in his head with excruciating detail, and he actually growled an expletive as he reached to answer the rude interruption. "What?" he nearly shouted into the phone.

"Whoa, hey, is that any way to talk to your ol' buddy Face?"

Murdock's irritation dissolved upon hearing the familiar voice. "Sorry, Faceman. I've got some stuff here driving me nuts."

"'Stuff'?" Face queried. "What kinda stuff?"

"Oh, nothing to worry about. What can I do you for?"

"We've got a job," Face said after a brief pause where he considered pressing Murdock for more information on this 'stuff'. "I'll brief you later about it, but I wanted to call and give you a heads up that we're scamming you out tomorrow morning."

"Wow, for once we don't have to leave immediately?"

"That's right."

"Good deal," remarked Murdock. He never got a heads up. "What's the scam this time?"

"I think I'll say I'm army, and your medical records show you survived some made-up disease that everyone else has so far died from, so we want to run some tests on you to develop a vaccine."

Murdock chuckled on his end. "Face, come on, that sounds pretty frigging ridiculous." He could almost see Face bristle on the other end; Face took a lot of pride in his scamming skills.

"Oh, what, you got a better one, Murdock?" Face retorted.

Rolling his eyes, Murdock adopted a tone he hoped sounded genuinely conciliatory. "No, no, you're right, the plan is ingenious."

"Damn right it is," Face grumbled. "So be ready around 10:00 a.m."

"Aye, aye!" Suddenly, Charlie's face popped into Murdock's head. "Hey, how long you figure we'll be gone?"

"Dunno, maybe three or four days? Depends on what we find when we get there. Why, you got some place better to be?"

Murdock resisted the urge to tell Face that these days, the V.A. would be a far better place to be, given the presence of his new neighbour. "Um… nope. See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," echoed Face, and the two men hung up their phones.

Murdock returned to his reclining position on his bed. He knew three or four days away from the woman who he was growing increasingly infatuated with would feel like decades. He vowed to devote everything he had to the mission in order to get it done as fast as humanly possible. He wasn't sure just what he could get going with Charlie, or even if he could at all, but he was damned sure looking forward to coming back to find out.

*****

It was two o'clock in the morning when Charlie was startled out of a deep sleep. For a moment, she had no idea what had woken her. Then she realized she could hear shouting somewhere nearby, and concluded it must have been what roused her. Dressed in a tank top and flannel pyjama pants, she rose and padded across the room to the door, wanting to see if the nearby yelling merited her calling someone for help.

Exiting her room, she looked left then right along the corridor, but saw nothing. She realized the sound was definitely coming from somewhere in close proximity to her, and turned right to follow the sound.

The yelling intensified as she drew closer to Murdock's room, and upon reaching his door, she came to the startling discovery that the sound was originating from his room. She stood on her tiptoes and looked through the tiny Plexiglas window in the door. Murdock was thrashing around in his bed, shouting, but with his eyes closed. She figured he must be having a very intense nightmare. While she knew his agonizing dream was not any sort of mortal threat to him, she found she could not bear to see him twist and scream in terror; he had to be woken.

Dashing first to one end of the corridor, then to the other, Charlie saw no nurse in sight. Indeed, budget cuts had resulted in an appallingly low number of nurses present to supervise the psych ward at night, and even if she could find one, Charlie realized they would likely have more serious situations to deal with than Murdock's nightmare.

_Fine, I'll do it myself_, Charlie decided and rushed back to Murdock's door. Trying the knob, she was not surprised to find it locked. She raced back to her room, picked up her wallet, and grabbed her bank card.

Back at Murdock's door once more, she shimmied the card between the doorjamb and the lock, wiggling the knob back and forth until she felt the card slip into place, and the door unlock with a click. _Thank you, Rick,_ she thought wryly to herself, appreciative that his sleazebag habits had at least allowed her to learn a valuable skill. She entered, swinging the door shut behind her just in case a nurse did happen by and was unimpressed by her little B & E stunt.

She tossed the card on Murdock's nightstand, and sat on the edge of the bed, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, gently at first but with increasing force as he failed to wake. "Murdock! Murdock! Wake up!" she commanded in a loud but even voice. "Murdock!"

Still unconscious, Murdock simply continued to yell. "No! We gotta go back for him! We gotta go back! Please, lemme go back!" Clearly, he was stuck in some personal hell back in Vietnam.

Charlie couldn't stand it anymore. She rose and ran to the bathroom. Finding a glass on the edge of the sink, she filled it to the brim with cold water and grabbed a towel.

She returned to her position on the bed and tossed the contents of the glass unceremoniously into Murdock's face. It did the trick.

Murdock's eyes flew open as he sputtered and threw his hands, palms up, over his face. He sat up coughing, barking, "What the hell?! Who did-" He stopped as his eyes focused on the woman in front of him. "Charlie?" he asked in disbelief, rubbing at his eyes as though he thought she too might be just a dream.

"Hi," she said in far softer tone than she had intended. "Sorry, you were having a nightmare, and I couldn't take you screaming anymore."

Murdock realized he must have woken her, and his heart sank a little as he assumed she had only woken him because the noise was wrecking her night's sleep. He took the towel she offered him to dry off a little.

"Sorry I woke you, Charlie," said Murdock, his voice slightly muffled by the towel. "Don't worry, you can go back to sleep, I won't be doing any more hollering."

Charlie frowned. "No, I wasn't- I didn't do it because I couldn't sleep, I did it because you just sounded so tortured, and I wanted to help."

Tossing the towel aside, Murdock grinned. "Ah, I see! So you're my knight in shining armour, are you? Madam, I am forever in your debt." From his seated position, he placed a hand across his stomach and mimicked a formal bow.

Charlie giggled. "I'll let you know when I decide how to call in that debt."

"I think that may be the first time I've seen you smile like that," Murdock mused, a warm light in his eyes. "You're beautiful when you smile."

Charlie blushed to the roots of her hair.

Giving his head a slight shake as though trying to lose the last little bit of fuzziness left by sleep, a sudden thought occurred to Murdock. "Wait, how did you get in here?" he asked.

Charlie nodded towards the bank card on his nightstand, and he followed her gaze.

"You broke in?" he gasped incredulously. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"In another life," she shrugged. "Another life where I made some really dumb decisions about who I hung around with."

"Well, that's quite a skill," Murdock noted. "Do you think you could use it to break into the kitchen after hours? I bet those nurses horde tons of desserts we never get to eat. Besides, look at me," he quipped, looking down at himself. "I could use a good dessert!"

Charlie did in fact look, and suddenly realized with a start that he was bare-chested. She couldn't help but notice the lightly tanned, firm expanse of his chest, the taught definition of his abdomen, the chiselled musculature in his arms. A patch of springy golden-brown hair grew near the top of his chest, while a trail of hair the same color began just below his belly-button and continued until it disappeared beneath the waistband of his pants. Charlie felt her heart begin to quicken its pace.

Murdock, noting the appraisal, shifted further forward to narrow the distance between them. "I don't suppose you've got any other dessert ideas, do you?" he asked in a husky voice. His eyes had grown dark with desire.

Unable to speak, Charlie gave her head an almost imperceptible shake, finding it impossible to take her eyes from him.

No longer willing to fight his desire, Murdock quickly closed the gap between himself and Charlie, and brought his lips crashing down over hers.

Charlie offered only a moment's hesitation resulting from her surprise, before surrendering herself to him completely. She responded hungrily, clinging to him as the kiss deepened. She felt his tongue gently prod at her lips, and she opened her mouth wider as it dove in and out of her mouth. He tasted of coffee and cinnamon, and Charlie intermittently sucked his tongue before countering with her own. A throbbing heat was rapidly unfurling at the apex of her thighs.

Desperately needing to feel her even closer, Murdock wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his lap. He buried one hand in her luxurious hair and slid the other one up her side, starting at her hip and moving upwards until his hand grazed the side of her breast. She slid her arms around his neck and drew him impossibly nearer. Murdock took his hand from her hair, reaching now with both hands around her waist and behind her, and moving them under her tank top and up the length of her back.

Charlie let out a gasp at the sensation of his hands roving along her bare skin, and felt a searing heat wherever his fingers touched her. From her position on his lap, Charlie could feel the hard ridge of his desire pressing into her, and the knowledge of his want only fanned the flames of her own.

Murdock's exploration of her body continued as his hands glided from her back to her front, each hand seeking out a breast, grazing lightly across both nipples, bringing them to stiffened peaks. His skilful fingers caressed, kneaded, savoured. Tearing his mouth from hers, he began laying a trail of kisses down her neck.

Writhing at the sensations Murdock's intimate touch was creating, Charlie's entire reality dropped out of view. She threw her head back, giving in to the blistering passion she felt. Murdock's name escaped her lips on a moan.

The sound was almost too much for Murdock. With a groan, he began to ease Charlie back, shifting his weight as he lowered the length of her body onto his mattress.

The feeling of Murdock's bed against her back suddenly snapped Charlie back to reality, and she broke from his kiss while pushing against his chest. Her reckless behaviour became immediately apparent to her, and she knew that by allowing herself to act with such thoughtless abandon, she had put Murdock's very life in danger. As he slowly withdrew, Charlie quickly sat bolt upright, clumsily adjusting her shirt to cover herself. Though she knew she shouldn't, Charlie raised her eyes and looked into Murdock's. His eyes mirrored confusion and disappointment. Charlie certainly could not blame him for his reaction.

"Charlie, I'm sorry, I-" Murdock looked completely stunned, and was clearly wracking his brain to figure out what had happened while struggling to bring his breath back to a normal rate. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Oh no, Murdock, no," Charlie blurted, standing. She had to get away from him. She couldn't think clearly in his presence, and did not trust herself to refrain from finishing what they had started if she remained in his room. "I just…" she trailed off, wanting desperately to tell him the truth about why she had to go, to reassure him that it had absolutely nothing to do with him. "I'm sorry," she said, her eyes pleading for understanding. "I just… I can't.. I… I'm sorry Murdock, I can't, I can't do this now," she finished weakly. "I… I'm sorry, I can't" she repeated remorsefully, backing out the door.

As the door shut, Murdock had caught a glimpse of great sadness in her eyes, and wanted to rush to throw his arms around her again, but knew she would only reject it. With slight yelp of anger, he flung his pillow across the room as hard as he could, watching as it bounced off of the glossy face of Steve McQueen before flopping onto the floor. What had just happened? Storming across the room to retrieve the pillow, Murdock could come up with no reasonable response to his own question. He thought with a grimace that this little trip he was leaving for tomorrow now suddenly seemed like a Godsend that could distract him from this situation, which was now thoroughly doing his head in. He tossed and turned for the rest of the night, finding sleep nearly impossible, and wondering if he had simply switched his earlier nightmare for another.


	2. Chapter 2

Even on the best of days, Charlie was generally an incredibly cranky human being until she had her morning coffee. On the morning after her late-night visit to Murdock's room, however, Charlie awoke positively miserable.

Dark smudges under her eyes revealed the restless night she had spent tossing and turning, unable to slow her frantic thoughts to facilitate sleep. In her entire life, Charlie had never surrendered as thoroughly to a man as she had, albeit briefly, to Murdock a few hours ago, and the total loss of control was proving very unnerving. It was as though her body had completely broken ties with her brain, wiping out all trace of reason and logic. Between the point when Murdock's lips had begun to devour her own and the moment when she had finally broken from the passionate entanglement, Charlie could not remember making one single conscious decision about her actions. Her response had been instinctive, raw, almost animalistic.

What she found especially unsettling was her inability to decipher just what it was specifically that had led to such overwhelming passion. What was it about Murdock in particular that consumed her?

Charlie thought back to her time with Rick. Though the frequency of sex had begun to wane in the last few months before she had left him, Charlie and Rick had by and large always enjoyed a relatively active sex life when they were together. But even when the relationship had just begun, when they'd both been enamoured by new love, Charlie knew that she had never, ever experienced anything with Rick as explosive as what she had experienced with Murdock last night. With Rick, Charlie had never been kissed in a way that obliterated the rest of the world. His touch had never set fire to every nerve ending in her body. And Rick had certainly never brought her the excruciating pleasure Murdock had in a way that made her whole body sing. Even now, Charlie could still feel Murdock's touch all over her body, his lips pressed against her, his arms encircling her.

Worse still, Charlie knew the ecstasy she had found was not merely a physical reaction to a man with a skilful touch. She knew that the intensity of her pleasure would not have been felt in the arms of any man other than Murdock, though she had no clear idea of why this was so.

In the clear light of day, it was blatantly obvious that any involvement with Murdock whatsoever was monumentally irresponsible, and more importantly, it put Murdock in mortal danger. By now, Rick almost certainly would have figured out that she was the one who had caused his current legal problems; she was terrified of what Rick's next move would be in the face of this realization. Rick was vengeful, violent, and as Charlie had recently discovered, able to kill without hesitation or conscience. If Rick discovered where she was hiding out…

But all these certainties had become very hazy and distant in Murdock's room last night. Even the knowledge that Rick would probably kill Murdock if he thought Murdock meant anything to Charlie had served as absolutely no deterrent in yesterday's encounter. Her body could not be trusted, Charlie recognized, and decided the only viable solution to outwitting her body was to spend as little time with or even near Murdock as possible. She resolved to maintain her distance from him, and under no circumstances would she ever allow herself to be alone with him again.

Charlie went through the motions of her usual morning routine, and set off for the dining room to grab breakfast and her desperately needed coffee. Butterflies skittered around her stomach, as she apprehensively anticipated seeing Murdock taking care of his own breakfast needs too. She assumed that if she did run into him, she and Murdock would perhaps share an awkward look or two, but she would not stop to eat or chat. _I'm just gonna get in, get it, and get out_, she reminded herself. She found the Mission: Impossible theme song was playing in her head.

When Charlie entered the room to begin what felt like her own impossible mission however, a quick scan of the area revealed he wasn't there. In fact, over the next three days, Charlie didn't see Murdock even once.

She supposed she should have felt a great deal of relief over Murdock's absence, but there was a tiny part of her that was dying to see his warm brown eyes sparkling with mischief, and his captivating smile that made her knees just a little bit wobbly. In addition, she felt herself growing increasingly worried about his whereabouts, wondering if he had fallen ill or been injured and moved to another part of the hospital, or succumbed to some kind of psychotic break and was hiding himself somewhere or… Scenarios of an increasingly severe nature were building up in her head, and she decided she would never rid herself of her anxiety over the situation unless she found out the truth.

Charlie knew her best chance of finding out where Murdock was would be to ask Mutton, and after a great deal of exploring, she finally found him in the V.A. library, where he was engrossed in a book about Roswell, New Mexico.

She took a seat in a chair next to him. "Hi, Mutton."

The older man gave a bit of a start. "Oh, Charlie! Didn't see you there!" he exclaimed, snapping his book closed, and turning towards her with a large, lop-sided smile.

Charlie returned the smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your reading. I've just got a quick question for you."

"Hey, a beauty like you is always more fun to be with than a book," countered Mutton with a wink.

Charlie smiled and shook her head; Mutton's charm always brightened her day. "Oh, Mutton, if I were twenty years older…" she teased.

"Oh don't worry about that, I've got no problems dating a younger woman!" This time, Mutton suggestively wiggled his eyebrows. Charlie burst out laughing, drawing irritated stares from other library patrons, and earning a stern look from the V.A.'s librarian, who shushed Charlie with a frown and a finger to her lips.

"Thanks a lot, Mutton," she growled with mock anger. "Anyway, listen, I was just wondering where Murdock was. I haven't seen him in days, and…" she trailed off, unable to come up with an excuse for asking that didn't reveal her interest in Murdock as more than just a friend.

"Doc? Oh, he just left for a couple days. He ought to be back in a few more."

Charlie furrowed her brow with confusion. "He just left? How did he do that? Is he allowed to just leave whenever he wants?"

Mutton shook his head. "No, no. He sneaks out. Usually this friend of his shows up to help. But he always sneaks back in eventually."

"Wait, what? Really?" Charlie's face revealed the difficulty she was having believing Mutton's explanation. "Well, where does he go?"

"That I'm not so sure of. All I've ever gotten out of him is that most of the time he leaves to help out a buddy, although it seems to me that if that's the case, he has got an awful lot of buddies who need help."

Charlie mulled this over.

"Wanna know what I think he's **really** up to?" Mutton glanced around, leaned in closer to Charlie, and conspiratorially whispered, "I think he's government. Like a government spy or something. I think they wanna keep an eye on some of the people in here, and Doc helps 'em do it. Lotta guys in here who know the truth, see, and the government's afraid they'll tell it. Take me for instance. I know the moon landing was a lie. Government faked it to trick us, but they didn't trick me, no sir. And now they wanna make sure I don't tell anyone what really happened, so they sent Doc to make sure I don't. Lucky for me, I know Doc won't ever turn me in; that guy would never turn in a friend. Bet he knows I'm telling the truth about the landing too." Mutton stopped to take a breath before he hurried on. "Now, I know what you're thinking," he said. _Somehow, I doubt that_, Charlie thought. "You're thinking Doc's the enemy if he works for The Man, right? Well, don't worry, 'cause I ain't worried about our Doc. I bet he's feeding 'em lies and pretending they're true. He's a real good guy, Charlie; he wouldn't lead anyone into trouble who didn't deserve it."

There was a pause as Charlie tried to figure out how to respond to Mutton's outlandish explanation. The best she could manage was, "huh." While she felt fairly confident that Murdock was not some bizarre, government spy monitoring conspiracy theorists, she could not deny that Mutton's claim about Murdock sneaking out for vague reasons fit with the current situation. She was also mildly surprised to discover that some part of her felt disappointment over the fact that Murdock wasn't even in the building anymore; in her initial assumption, Murdock may have been in some unknown hospital location, but at least he had still been in the hospital.

Charlie flashed Mutton a quick smile. "Thanks for clearing up the mystery of where Murdock is, Mutton."

Mutton waved a hand and said, "Hey, my pleasure, darling." His face took on an impish look. "Say, you wouldn't be interested in our young Doc now, would you?"

"What?" Charlie blurted, blushing so intensely that Mutton knew he had his answer. "That's ridiculous! No! He's just… he's only a friend, and I was just curious, that's all."

"If you say so," Mutton said with a knowing grin, and Charlie could tell he wasn't buying her denial for one second.

"Anyway, thanks again, Mutton," she said, standing so quickly she almost knocked her chair over. "I'll see you at dinner," she added as an afterthought before bolting for the exit.

Mutton chuckled and went back to his book. "That boy's in trouble," he said to no one in particular.

*****

"So, what's her name?"

Murdock gazed out the van window as he and Face drove back to the V.A. The job they were returning from had not been a pretty one. The team had been hired to put one Rydell Pincet, a man of an especially sleazy nature, out of business. Pincet had been helping illegal female immigrants, many of them refugees, sneak into the country. Upon arrival, however, these women did not find the hope and the freedom they had dreamt of; they found themselves as Pincet's indentured servants. Pincet confiscated all the passports of these women, most thousands of miles from all family and friends, and informed them that they had to "work off" the price of their passage before he would return their passports and subsequent freedom. Worst of all, these women did not work off their passage by washing dishes or running errands; they were forced to work as prostitutes in an establishment that, while designated a "massage parlor", was, in reality, what was commonly known as a "rub n' tug" joint.

Though the team had literally torn the place apart, and anonymously dropped Pincet off at a nearby police station, Murdock knew the women had a long and difficult road ahead of them. He took some comfort in the knowledge that all the women had their passports returned to them, and were now free to live their lives however they chose.

"Murdock?"

It took a moment, but Murdock eventually realized Face was speaking to him. He finally turned to his friend, and found Face wore an expectant expression. Murdock knew Face must have asked him something and was waiting for an answer, but Murdock had been too preoccupied to hear it. He sighed. "Sorry, Faceman, I wasn't listening. What did you ask me?"

Face rolled his eyes. "Geez, where have you been all trip? You've been spaced out over there for the whole ride." Without waiting for an answer, Face continued. "What I was asking was, what's her name?"

Murdock got the distinct feeling he'd missed something. "What's who's name?"

"The girl."

"What girl?"

"What is this, an Abbott and Costello routine? The girl you've been so distracted thinking about for the whole mission."

Murdock had to admit that he'd devoted far more than a passing thought to Charlie while he'd been away from the V.A. Try as he might, he could not think of what might have caused Charlie's hasty retreat from his room on the evening he'd woken to her sitting on the side of his bed. His instincts told him she was in some kind of trouble, but he couldn't come up with any theories on what the nature of that trouble might be.

Even though the encounter had been a few days ago, Murdock could still taste her on his tongue, could still smell her heavenly sent, could still feel her silken red hair sliding through his fingers. Most of all, he could still hear her moan his name, her head thrown back in reaction to the pleasure he had brought her. Murdock knew there was so much more pleasure they could have found together had she not run off, and he longed to watch her experience every sensuous feeling he could bring her.

He also recognized that his inability to stop thinking about her was the product of more than just lust. He could not figure out what it was exactly that so drew him to her, but he desperately wanted to find out. Even given her mad dash away from him, Murdock refused to entertain the idea that he may not get that opportunity.

"Why do you figure it's a girl?" Murdock asked with a hint of irritation, returning to the conversation at hand. "Maybe I'm distracted by something else."

"Well let's see," began Face with a grin, "You went this whole mission without a random accent or some strange persona, you didn't put on one single, silly hat, there was nothing invisible around, and you didn't even drive B.A. nuts. In fact, I didn't hear B.A. tell you to quit your 'jibber jabber' even once."

"Well that proves I was distracted, but I don't see how that proves I was distracted by a girl," Murdock shot back.

"Murdock, the only thing I can think of that would tie up your brain that much is a lady. So I'll ask you again: what's her name?" Face flashed his friend a self-satisfied smile.

"Aren't you clever," Murdock muttered. He sighed. "It's Charlie. Her name's Charlie. Short for Charlotte."

"Ah. For a minute there I thought you were revealing something entirely different, buddy. So what's the deal?"

"There's no 'deal', man. A cute girl moved in next to me, and I'm just getting to know her, that's all."

"Cute girl, huh? Sounds right up my alley… wanna introduce me when we get there?" asked Face in a tone that was half-serious.

"No."

"No? Come on, Murdock, don't you wanna see your old buddy Face happy?" Face turned to Murdock with the best hang-dog expression he could manage.

"No. And if you do happen to run into her one day and start hitting on her, your ass is grass," Murdock said dryly.

Face chuckled. "Oh, you are just no fun at all," he replied petulantly, then huffed, "Fine. "But you gotta make sure you at least give me a heads-up if anything physical happens."

Murdock tried desperately to stop the corners of his lips from turning up.

The reaction did not go unnoticed by Face. "No way, really? You dog! Nice job! Looks like the team's got a second lady-killer, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah," Murdock said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Don't worry, Face, I'm not out to steal your title. There's only one lady I'm interested in 'killing', so all the other ladies on earth are yours to seduce."

"Yippee!" Face yelped, grinning from ear to ear as he turned the van into the V.A.'s entrance. Murdock unbuckled his seat belt as the van stopped in front of the doors to the psych wing of the hospital. As he swung open the door, Face swivelled towards Murdock. "Go get 'er buddy! And don't forget," he called more loudly as Murdock began walking away, "I want details! Details!"

Murdock turned with an exasperated smile and offered Face a dismissive salute. Murdock hoped the next time he saw Face, he'd have some details to give him.

*****

Charlie was sprawled across her bed reading _The Scarlet Letter_ when she was interrupted by a knock on her door. Looking up, she saw that one of the nurses had poked her head in the room.

"Ms. Burchell? You've got a phone call," the middle-aged woman informed Charlie.

Charlie furrowed her brow. _Who would be calling me here?_ she mused.

"If you come with me, I'll show you a private phone room you can use."

Charlie marked her position in her book and tossed it on her bed as she stood. "Right, thanks," she said, following the nurse out of her room.

The phone 'rooms' were actually little closet-sized booths with windowed doors. They were fairly stuffy, but at least they offered privacy. Charlie sat down in one and closed the door, picking up the phone. "Hello?"

"Charlie?" came a familiar voice.

"Jake!" she exclaimed. "Good to hear your voice! Did you find a way to move the trial up or something?"

"No," said Jake slowly. "I've… got something to tell you."

Charlie felt a cold knot forming in her stomach at the tone of his voice. "Jake, you're scaring me – what is it?"

"It's Fenlon," he said quietly, referring to Charlie's brother.

"Fenlon?" Charlie asked as terror began to build. "What about Fenlon? Has something happened? Is something wrong?" Her tone had turned frantic. The hand in her lap became a tightly curled fist, her nails digging in to her palm.

"There was an accident, Charlie…" Jake's voice was full of sorrow. "He… Fenlon was hit by a car…"

"Oh my God," Charlie whimpered. "Jake, he's okay, right? Fenlon's okay? Tell me he's okay, Jake," she pleaded, teetering on the brink of hysteria.

Jake drew a deep breath. "Charlie, I'm sorry…"

"No!" Charlie shouted. "No, Jake, no!" The phone slipped from her hand as she began to sob uncontrollably. "No! No!" she screamed again, at the top of her lungs. She crumpled onto floor, clutching her head. "No! Oh God, no! Please God, no!" She wailed without stopping, shaking and crying, devastation obliterating the world around her.

Hearing the cries, a nurse had arrived to see what was happening, and yanked open the door to discover Charlie collapsed on the floor, her body wracked with sorrow and sobs. The nurse immediately sat down next to Charlie, instinctively gathering her into her arms. She began to gently rock Charlie, trying desperately to soothe her by gently whispering assurances that it would be okay.

The two women remained that way for almost an hour, until Charlie had no tears left, and shock had begun to set in. Raising her head, she realized the phone receiver was swinging from its cord, right where she had left it, and she numbly took it in hand. Charlie turned to the nurse to thank her, but the nurse slipped out of the booth before Charlie could do so. Returning her attention to the phone, Charlie was surprised to find Jake still on the line.

"Charlie?" Jake asked hesitantly, hearing her sniffling and shallow breathing.

"I'm here, Jake," she answered numbly. "When will the funeral be?"

"Your father arranged to have it this Friday, but Charlie – "

She cut him off. "Okay. Today is Monday, so that's four days to get there. When will you come pick me up?" Her voice was flat, drained of any life.

"Charlie," Jake began, regret evident in his voice, "Charlie, I'm not picking you up."

"Jake," she started to reply, he tone warning.

"Charlie, you can't go. Rick will have the place staked out. He's gonna plan on you going. You'd never make it out alive."

Moments of silence ticked by as Charlie struggled for composure. "Jake, I'm going," she informed him coldly. "I'm going to my brother's funeral. I don't care if Rick's got guys there. If they kill me, so be it. But I'm going."

"No, Charlie, you're not." There was a minute of silence as Jake steeled himself for Charlie's reaction to what he was about to say. "I've told the V.A. you're not to leave. They won't be letting you out."

Charlie erupted with fury. "You did what?" she screamed into the receiver. "You bastard! Why would you do that? You have no right! No right!" She leapt to her feet as her anger overwhelmed her. "How can you do this to me? You son of a bitch!"

"Charlie, I'm so sorry, but I need you to understand," Jake pleaded. "I'd rather have you hate me than have you dead. Please Charlie, please try to understand."

Charlie's face was flushed with rage, and tears of frustration ran down her cheeks. "You asshole! You're a horrible human being! I trusted you! I trusted you!" Her words were choked by a sob, and she slammed her fist into a wall, a dent appearing in the drywall.

"Charlie, I'm sorry," Jake repeated, his voice soft with regret. "I have no choice. Go get in bed. Get some sleep. Grieve. Think of the good times with your brother. Call me if you need to talk. In the meantime," he finished on a sigh, "I'll work on getting Rick's trial moved up. I'll call to check on you tomorrow. I'm sorry, Charlie. I'm sorry." Charlie heard a faint click as Jake hung up.

Charlie's knees slowly gave way, and she slid back down the wall to the floor again. She remained frozen that way for hours, too stunned to move or think clearly. A nurse eventually came and coaxed Charlie back to her room, practically dragging her down the hall with a supportive arm around Charlie's waist.

By the time Charlie got back to her room, her mind had regained some of its basic function. She knew without a doubt that there was nothing on earth that would keep her from Fenlon's funeral. Still dressed, she climbed into bed, where she lay staring at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity. When she finally did manage to drift off into sleep, it was only because she had realized exactly how she was going to get where she needed to be.

*****

The next day, Murdock rose to find a day that was decidedly gloomy. The sky outside his window was a dull, flat grey, and a sharp wind was scattering fallen leaves around the psych ward's ample yard, pulling them upwards into tiny spirals before haphazardly depositing them back to earth. Murdock decided it was the kind of day that merited staying indoors and alternating between video games and terrible daytime TV. He wondered absently if Charlie might want to join him. When he had returned home yesterday in the late afternoon, he had been unable to resist a quick peek through the small window in her door, dying for even a glimpse of her, but all he had seen was an empty room. He had quickly resolved to track her down the next day, and was eagerly anticipating doing just that today.

He took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, and shaved. Murdock soon found that although he usually enjoyed his leisurely morning ritual of preparing for his day, today the process felt like a chore, and he couldn't finish fast enough.

Murdock had just finished throwing on his usual t-shirt and khakis when a knock sounded at the door. "Great timing, Mutton!" Murdock called, certain of who the caller was, just as he was every morning around this time. "I'm starved!" He grabbed his jacket and went to let his friend in. He crossed the room in two long strides and swung open the door.

"Mutton, let's –" Murdock stopped his greeting abruptly, surprised to see that his caller was, in fact, not Mutton. "Charlie?" A welcoming smile appeared on his face to see the woman he had been unable to quit thinking of for the past three days standing in his doorway. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the smile vanished as Murdock registered what he saw before him. She looked exhausted, the dark half-moons under her eyes made more pronounced by the paleness of her skin. Her eyes were dull, devoid of the life he had seen in them before he had left on 'business'. Even her stance was slumped over, removed. "Charlie, what is it? What's wrong?"

Her response was monotone and listless. "My brother's been killed."

"Oh, Charlie, I'm so sorry," Murdock's own voice took on a tone of sincere sorrow for her obvious sadness. Instinctively, he moved towards her to wrap his arms around her in a hug, but stopped when she raised a hand and took a step back.

"I know. Everyone's sorry," she told him flatly. "I'm not here for your pity, Murdock."

"Charlie, I wasn't-" Murdock began, but was cut off before he could finish.

"Listen, I'm here because Mutton told me about your escapes, and I need your help."

"Um, Charlie…" Murdock tilted his head to the side while a look of confusion set in. "I don't know what Mutton told you, but I don't actually work for the government."

Charlie almost smiled in spite of herself. "Yeah, I figured that," she said with a hint of sarcasm. "What I need is for you to help me get out of here so I can get to my brother's funeral. The V.A.'s been instructed not to let me leave under any circumstances by…" She cast around for a suitable story. ".. by my doctor back home," she offered. "But I refuse to miss my brother's funeral. I need you to tell me how to get out."

Murdock took a moment to absorb the request. "Well, I- look, why don't you come in for a minute so we can discuss this?"

Charlie shook her head. Even in her current distraught state, she knew being alone with Murdock still carried the same risk it previously had. "No, Murdock, I just need you to walk me through an escape, that's it."

"Charlie, where's the funeral?"

"Montana."

"Right, and how do you plan on getting there once you break out?" Murdock wanted to know.

"Well, I…" Charlie trailed off. _How did I not think of that?_ she wondered, feeling a little silly.

Murdock sighed. "Charlie, look. If you can give me a day or two, I can rustle us up a chopper, and the I can fly you to the funeral."

"No good," she countered. "After today, I've got two days to get there, so the escape's got to happen tomorrow morning at the latest." She crossed her arms and jutted her chin out defiantly. "So are you going to help me or not?"

Charlie was met with silence as Murdock considered her request. Finally he said, "Alright, I'm in. But there's one condition: I'm going with you."

"Absolutely not," Charlie snapped.

"Charlie, first of all, you have no means of getting to the funeral. I know of a van I can borrow. Second, no one should for drive two days all alone to their brother's funeral. And the fact that your home doctor doesn't think you're in any condition to leave this place, well, that tells me you need to have someone keeping an eye on you while you're out in that big, wide world. I think it's pretty clear that I would be an idiot to let you go alone," Murdock concluded, a stubborn look in his eyes that dared her to challenge him.

"But, I…" Charlie paused. All it took was one look into his eyes, and she knew without doubt that this man was not going to budge. She emitted a low growl of exasperation, realizing begrudgingly that Murdock was probably right in his assessment of the situation. "Fine," she grumbled. "You can come with me. Just don't go getting any ideas, Murdock." Murdock thought he detected the slightest bit of conviction missing from her voice.

"Ideas? What ideas? I've got no ideas," he replied with mock innocence, desperately trying to suppress a grin.

"You'd better not have any ideas," Charlie muttered. "So what's the plan?"

"Don't you worry about that," he assured her. "I'll call some friends and take care of the details. Just meet me here tomorrow morning at, let's say, eight o'clock, and I'll have you out of here before you can say, 'no ideas'."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Right. Tomorrow then." She turned on her heel and started off down the hall. A few steps later though, she suddenly stopped walking and turned, glancing back. "I… thanks, Murdock," she said softly. Her eyes locked with his for a moment, and he noted the gratitude conveyed by her expression.

"My pleasure," he returned, and Charlie recognized the absolute sincerity in his tone. Charlie nodded and resumed her movement down the hall as Murdock retreated into his room and shut the door.

In the quiet of his surroundings, a slow smile grew on Murdock's face. _Man, I love road trips!_ he thought to himself with a grin.


	3. Chapter 3

Murdock checked his watch for what seemed like the hundredth time. 8:15 a.m. _Where in God's name is she?_ he wondered. Face would be here in fifteen minutes, and Murdock had seen neither hide nor hair of his co-conspirator. If the scam had any hope of working, she needed to be given a heads up about what her part required, and he was fast losing the time he needed to do so.

Two minutes later, with no sign of Charlie, he decided he would take matters into his own hands. He grabbed his leather jacket and headed to her room, closing his door on the way.

He knocked on Charlie's door upon his arrival at her room. There was no answer. He knocked a little louder and called her name. Still he got no response but silence. Pressing his ear to the door, he could hear a faint noise which he thought sounded like a hair dryer. "Great," he muttered. He tried the knob, and was surprised to find that the door was unlocked.

He entered Charlie's room. Murdock could hear her in the bathroom, along with the sound of the hair dryer he had suspected. "Charlie?" he called from the main room. He stepped closer to the bathroom, and saw that the door was ajar. "Charlie?" Nothing.

Fed up and short on time, he walked right into the bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror, damp hair whipping around her face as the dryer's warm air did its job. Much to Murdock's delight, she wasn't wearing a shirt, although she was wearing a blue, lacy bra, in addition to a tight pair of navy blue jeans whose low rise cut across her flat stomach and hugged her tiny waist. Murdock had the privilege of a few seconds of unabashed staring before she jumped, having finally spotted him in the mirror.

"Murdock!" she yelled, spinning to face him. "What the hell?! Get out!" She fumbled wildly for a towel to cover herself as Murdock ignored her directive and leaned casually against the door frame wearing a lazy grin. Eyes blazing, she flicked the hair dryer off. "What are you doing?!" she seethed, finally finding a towel and clutching it tightly to her chest.

"It's twenty after eight," he informed her. "Remember that whole 'meet me at eight' thing?"

Mildly embarrassed, Charlie's anger subsided slightly. "And you couldn't wait another five minutes?" she demanded.

"Darling, if I had waited another five minutes, my buddy Face would have been here before I could tell you what you need to do, and we'd both be back in our rooms moping about losing our escape chance."

Charlie had the decency to look slightly apologetic. "Guess I probably should have told you that I stink at being on time, huh?" she asked, with the tiniest of grins.

"Probably," Murdock agreed, returning her smile.

"Just let me throw a shirt on." Charlie began to move towards the main room.

"Actually, hang on, I gotta do something first," Murdock told her.

Charlie's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Nothing seedy," he quickly reassured her, and reached for her makeup case on the counter. He rummaged through the bag and selected a brown eye-liner pencil. "Okay, turn around," he directed her.

Charlie was so completely confused that she didn't even question Murdock as she presented her back to him.

"I'm giving you a birthmark," he explained as he moved towards her, finding it a little difficult to keep his tone even as he took in all the bare skin in front of him. "It's part of the plan. Face is the primary in this scam, and he's going to check it."

Murdock's intention was to draw the mark in the most neutral, utilitarian way possible, but his hands were clearly not on board with that particular goal. He gathered her tousled mane of red hair at the nape of her neck and pushed it over her shoulder with an excruciatingly slow movement. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck as he moved closer, and she suddenly felt quite flustered. His fingers brushed against her right shoulder blade while the other hand brought the eye-liner to her skin and drew a small crescent moon shape, which he then coloured in. With great reluctance Murdock stepped backwards, and assessed his handiwork. "Okay," he said, wondering why he suddenly felt a rush of relief. Charlie turned to face him once again and he held the pencil out to her. "My turn!" He pivoted and pulled his shirt over his head, his back now facing her. "Crescent moon shape," he instructed.

With her fingers trembling ever so slightly, she leaned in to repeat the process Murdock had used on her. The crisp scent of his aftershave hung in the air. Charlie brought her free hand to his shoulder blade and applied a little pressure to stretch the skin taught. She found that his skin was soft and supple, but she could also feel the thick, corded muscles beneath. She carefully drew the outline of the requested shape, then filled it with wide pencil strokes. When she finished, she glanced to the right and caught a glimpse of both of them in the mirror: she was momentarily startled by the intimate tableau she saw reflected as they stood inches apart, neither wearing a shirt.

No longer feeling the movement of the pencil, Murdock turned his head. "All set?" he asked over his shoulder.

Charlie nodded. "Good to go. Now if it's alright with you, I'd like to go put a shirt on before you tell me why in God's name we need fake birth marks," she said wryly, heading for her dresser, where she grabbed a black t-shirt with a deep V neckline.

Murdock sighed melodramatically as he tugged his own shirt back on and followed from the bathroom. "Well, I guess, if you feel like you absolutely must."

Charlie pulled on the t-shirt, and tried to shoot him an irritated look, but there was too much amusement in her eyes for the look to be convincing.

Murdock walked to where she was standing and reached for her wrist, encircling it with gentle fingers. "Hey, what do you think you're-" Charlie stopped in the middle of her indignant cry as she realized he was only try to get a look at her watch. "Oh," she said a little sheepishly.

"Right," Murdock said, noting the time and trying to suppress a grin. "It's eight-thirty, which means Face is out there now, so-"

"Wait, his name is actually Face?" Charlie interrupted, the strangeness of the name suddenly registering with her.

"Well, no it's-" This time Murdock cut himself off. "Remind me to explain later. We don't have time to cover the whole plan now, so all you need to know is that we're Russian. Just follow my lead." He walked to Charlie's door and peeked out discreetly, seeing that Face had just arrived at the reception desk. Murdock quickly stepped back from the door.

Charlie had moved towards the exit as well, and was close enough for her insistent whisper to be heard by Murdock. "Why are we Russian?"

Murdock peered once more around the door frame, and seeing that Face was occupying the woman behind the desk, he crouched down to sneak back to his own room while he still had the opportunity.

He glanced one final time at Charlie. "You'll see," he whispered back with a devilish grin, before disappearing down the hall.

*****

Face took a deep breath as he made one more last-minute appearance check in the mirrored walls of the V.A. hospital's elevator. He winked at his own reflection as he perused today's choice of clothing and decided he looked especially dapper. To suit the persona he was about to unleash, he had chosen a brown and black tweed sports jacket with suede patches on the elbows, and paired it with matching pants, the creases painstakingly ironed in before he left home that morning. Equal care had been taken with the cotton, collared tan shirt beneath the jacket, and he had capped off the look with a billowy, rich-looking cravat. He had added in a pair of small, round spectacles whose lenses were merely regular glass instead of prescription, in conjunction with a simple, mahogany tobacco pipe, having decided that both details lent themselves well to the academic look he was striving for.

A chime signalling the elevator had arrived at his floor roused Face from his self-appraisal, and he threw his shoulders back before confidently striding into the hall.

He looked unwaveringly at the reception desk as he approached. Face's understanding of human nature and keen ability to assess situations were a big part of the reason he was so skilled in the art of the con. His ability to improvise on the spot in response to the information he took in was both impressive and uncanny.

Face slowed his approach slightly as he considered the middle-aged woman behind the reception desk. She looked tired and frazzled. _Perfect_, he told himself.

"Good day to you, comrade," Face said upon arrival at the desk, altering his voice to create a heavy Russian accent.

The woman raised her head, scrutinizing the handsome man in front of her. "Can I help you?" she asked warily, narrowing her eyes.

"Da, Da," Face replied. "My name is Professor Nicholas Stravosky. I am with the Russian Heritage Society, and I have come many, many miles to tend to some business here." He quickly produced a fabricated I.D. badge and flashed it at the woman. "Many years ago, Russia's royal family went missing during World War I, and they were never seen again. But Mother Russia, she cries out for her history! She must reclaim her majestic past!" As he spoke, Face looked skyward and reached out to an invisible point above him, hoping he wasn't laying it on too thick. His knowledge of Russia and its people was admittedly reliant on some fairly silly stereotypes, but all he could do was cross his fingers and hope the receptionist was as poorly informed as he was.

"Okay…" the woman began, thoroughly perplexed about where this strange man was headed with this conversation.

"So, for many, many years, we have looked for the relatives of this family who may have somehow survived. Many times, we have thought we had located a member, only to find they had passed on. But Russia!" Face cried, shaking a fist in the air. "Russia, she must have her family! Her destiny!" Face's voice rose in feigned anguish, echoing through the halls. In two separate rooms within earshot of the performance, Charlie and Murdock were simultaneously trying desperately not to keel over laughing.

"Alright, take it easy, sir," the receptionist said, wanting to deescalate the situation while simultaneously admiring the "professor's" passion for his country of origin.

"Ah yes, dear woman, I am very sorry. Russia, she is my bride, and sometimes I go too far, no? But my bride, she is smiling today! Mother Russia has found her children! We have traced the blood lines of two of her children to right here. Within these walls, you Americans are keeping two descendants of our glorious royal family!"

"Really?" breathed the receptionist, allowing herself to get swept up in the excitement and romance of Face's outlandish story.

"Da, my good woman! And I am pleased to tell you that they must come with me so that we can confirm what I am certain is their royal bloodline in one of your American laboratories. You will be able to say that you helped Russia regain her glorious destiny!" Face finished breathlessly.

The mention of patients being taken from the hospital brought the receptionist back to earth. "Oh Professor, I'm sorry, but that's not possible. You'll need to submit a request to the director, and wait for approval before you can take these two people you're looking for." Her face was apologetic.

Face did his best to look crestfallen. "You would stand in the way of the glory of Russia?" he asked, trying to appear as sad and disappointed as he could.

"If it means I can keep the glory of my job, then yes," she responded with a shrug. "Especially when you're not even sure that these two are who you think they are."

Although Face had expected her to react exactly as she had, he took a moment to stroke his chin, mimicking deep thought. He sensed she might need a little softening if the next step was going to go smoothly. _Let's try a classic, _he decided. He leaned in closer, bending over the desk and bracing himself on it with his forearm, never letting his gaze stray from her own. He reached out with his free hand and briefly tapped his index finger under her chin. "It is rare to find a woman of such beauty with such intelligence, no?" Face said in the most seductive tone he could muster. He straightened and sighed as the woman's face flushed completely pink. "Alas, I too will lose my job if I return to Russia without my fellow countrymen." He flashed a megawatt smile at the receptionist, who was now hanging on his every word. "We are but two strangers, and yet, we share one problem, do we not?"

The receptionist nodded wordlessly.

Face suddenly snapped his fingers as though he had just thought of something. "I think perhaps I have a solution we can both benefit from, da?" he began. "All descendants from the royal family share a mark from God. When He delivers new life to Russia, He breathes a shape onto our royals. It is God's way of telling us who should do His work on earth as leader and guardian of our blessed country." Face paused to execute a sign of the cross. "So here is my thinking: you and I will together look at the two people I have come to find, and check for this mark. If they have the mark, we will know who they really are, and they can come with me, and you will know that the Russian Embassy in America will make sure there is no trouble for you. All will be restored, and we can both keep our jobs, no?"

Face frequently employed the tactic of convoluted, elaborate tales, introducing minimum understanding and maximum confusion to the situation. The combination forced his marks to make rapid decisions without recognition of possible consequences. He could tell by the receptionist's creased brow that the strategy was doing its job. "Come, come, let us find my kin!" Face exclaimed, not wanting to give the woman too much time to dwell on his proposal. He reached for her hand, pulling her from her seat and ushering her down the hallway. He yammered about the majesty of Russia along the way to prevent her from giving voice to her objections.

Face finally stopped in front of Murdock's room. He pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, giving the illusion of checking his details. "Are these the quarters of H.M. Murdock?" Face asked the woman in tow.

"Mr. Murdock?" the receptionist asked somewhat incredulously. "But he's not Russian!"

"Ah, we shall see, dear lady, shall we not?"

With a shake of her head, the woman rapped on Murdock's door. "Mr. Murdock?" she called through the door. "There's someone here who needs to see you."

Footsteps sounded momentarily, and the door swung open. Murdock's head poked out. "Yes?" he queried.

"Sir!" Face began. "I have discovered that you may be a part of history, and more importantly, a part of the greatest nation on earth!"

"New Zealand?" Murdock replied enthusiastically.

Luckily, the woman standing next to Face didn't catch the dirty look Face shot Murdock. "Russia," Face told him through gritted teeth.

The receptionist thought she saw confusion on Murdock's face. "I told him I thought he was mistaken; 'Murdock' is not a Russian name," she supplied.

"Actually," countered Murdock, "my grandparents changed their last name when they immigrated here. My family's original name was…" Murdock paused, quickly flipping through his brain for a believable alternative. "It was… Murdock… ski," he finished. "The original last name of my family was Murdockski."

Face rolled his eyes upon hearing the ridiculous fake moniker, but managed to stay in character. "You see?" he asked excitedly, first turning to the receptionist, then back to Murdock. "Mr. Murdockski, I have come on behalf of my beautiful Russia in search of descendents of our royal family, who vanished mysteriously many years ago. I believe you may be one of them."

"Wow, really?" Murdock asked, slapping a giddy grin on his face. "Do I get to wear a crown?"

"Well, I… don't know," Face responded, barely disguising his exasperation. "But you will have the pleasure of knowing that the heart which beats within you beats for Mother Russia alone." Face placed a hand on his chest and tapped it in imitation of a heartbeat.

"Hot dog!" Murdock exclaimed. "Well alright then, let's go find me a crown!" As he spoke, he grabbed his jacket from a hook on the back of the door, and began advancing towards the exit.

"Not so fast, Mr. Murdock," commanded the receptionist. "You can't leave until the professor here proves to me you are who he thinks you are."

"How's he going to do that?" Murdock asked with a frown, though he knew full well the answer to the question. "**I** don't even know if I am who I think I am."

Face jumped in right on cue. "If you truly are the child of Russia, you will have the mark of God on your shoulder, a mark shaped like the moon. I believe in this country, it is called a birthmark."

"Oh ho, then you're gonna love this!" Murdock said gaily, swiftly pivoting and lifting the back of his shirt until his shoulder blade was exposed.

Face gasped. "There she is! We have found you! I have found you! Russia has found you!" He yelped triumphantly. "Oh, Mr. Murdock, you must come with me, and together we can bring Russia one of her most sacred children!"

Pumping his fist, Murdock turned to the receptionist and said gleefully, "Later, Gertie!" He stepped out of his room, closed his door, and ran halfway down the hall, but stopped and swung back around when he realized the pair outside his door were not in pursuit. "Come on! Let's go! Hail to Russia!" he called to them impatiently.

"Believe it or not, Mr. Murdock, I suspect there may be one more of your kinsmen here. We must see her before we can leave."

Murdock jammed his hands into his pockets and pulled a convincing pout. "Fine," he sighed. "But then I get my crown, right?"

Face deliberately ignored the question, and began to walk down the hall in the opposite direction of Murdock's dash, stopping one door over. Face pulled out the same slip of paper as he had in front of Murdock's room. "I believe a Charlotte Burchell lives here, no?" he asked the woman whose name he now knew was Gertrude.

"Charlotte? Well, yes, but there's no way-" Before she could finish her sentence, though, Face had already knocked on the door. Murdock was making his way back towards Charlie's door, arriving just as the door opened.

"Oh hey, Gertie!" Charlie said warmly before turning her attention towards Face. "Who's this guy?" she asked the receptionist, jerking her thumb towards him.

_Wow, way to go, Murdock,_ Face thought as he surveyed the stunning woman in front of him. He was about to launch into the same spiel he had just given Murdock when Murdock piped up.

"Charlie, this guy thinks you may be some long-lost Russian royal," he told her.

Charlie managed to look surprised. "You don't say," she said curiously, returning her gaze to Face. "And what makes you think that?"

"Certainly any woman as beautiful as yourself must be a royal of some country, but I am here because years of long, hard research have led me to believe it is you who I seek." Face stepped a little closer to Charlie and said suggestively, "and right now, I feel very lucky that they did."

Charlie was not impressed. Murdock was even less impressed.

"Right, well, I have to tell you sir –"

"Please," Face cut her off. "Call me Nicholas."

"Sure, fine." Charlie continued. "I have to tell you… Nicholas," she said with agitation. "You're going to have to come up with something better than research, because what you're selling, I ain't buying." She crossed her arms over her chest. Murdock stifled a giggle.

"Ah, but of course!" Face chirped. "If royal blood runs through you, you will have a birthmark on your shoulder, just as Mr. Murdock does."

Charlie sighed. "And if I do?"

"Then you, and I, and Mr. Murdock will return as heroes to my majestic homeland! We will make Russia whole again!"

Charlie hesitated as if deciding what to do.

Face presented a pleading look. "It is my life's quest, Madam; please, do not deny me the chance of fulfilling my destiny, or Russia's chance to fulfil her destiny!" Face's overly-dramatic choice of words was making it increasingly difficult for Charlie to maintain a straight face.

"Russia's a girl?" Murdock suddenly interjected.

Face shot Murdock a dirty look, then turned back to Charlie. "Madam, please!" he cried.

At that moment, Charlie had no choice but to turn, needing to hide her face as she found herself no longer able to refrain from giggling. As she struggled to stifle her laughter, she squeaked out a, "fine," and reached behind her back to lift the hem of her t-shirt.

Unable to resist, Face positioned himself a few inches from her back and said congenially, "Please, allow me." He didn't dare look back at Murdock, but if he had, he would have witnessed Murdock fuming.

Charlie reluctantly brought her hands back in front of her. Face reached for the fabric, and raised it far more slowly than was necessary, while deliberately allowing his fingers to brush against her skin as he pulled the fabric all the way up. When he finally had a clear view of her shoulder blade, he brought his face exceptionally close to the mark as though he was having difficulty seeing it clearly. A few feet from Face, Murdock could see the crescent shape as clear as day. He signalled his displeasure with Face by loudly clearing his throat.

Realizing Murdock was probably at the end of his rope, Face unhappily released the shirt, letting it drop back into its intended position. He turned to Gertrude. "My dear woman, we have done it!" he shouted. "Thanks to you, Russia can blossom once again! You have healed my greatest love!" Face grabbed the receptionist and lifted her up, spinning her in a joyous bearhug.

Gertrude let out a little cry of surprise. "Professor!" she scolded, and Face set her down. She made her best effort to look indignant, but was helpless to stop the grin which appeared on her face.

"Madam!" Face grabbed Charlie's hands as they hung at her waist, clasping them tightly. "Say you will come with me! Oh, please, say you will!"

"You might get a crown!" Murdock supplied.

Charlie's eyes danced with amusement at the childish inflection in Murdock's voice.

"Well, I **have** always wanted a crown," she conceded. "Alright, count me in." She too grabbed her jacket from the back of her door and stepped out into the hallway.

"You have done an incredible service to my country, miss," Face raved, turning towards the receptionist. "And Russia, she will repay you some day!"

"Okay," said Gertrude, a slight uncertainty creeping into her voice. "You will have the embassy call my boss though, right?" She had begun to wring her hands.

Face bowed, took the woman's hand, and kissed it gently, his eyes raised to her. "I most certainly will," he reassured her.

The receptionist tittered girlishly. "Oh, all right," she smiled, swayed by Face's charm. "You two send us a postcard, you hear?" she told Murdock and Charlie.

"Yes ma'am!" Murdock saluted Gertrude with convincing gravitas.

With a tinge of disappointment that all the excitement was over, Gertrude looked on as the trio headed towards a waiting elevator, piling in and giving her one final wave goodbye before they disappeared from sight.

*****

Three identical sighs of relief filled the elevator the second the door slid closed with a whoosh and a distant whir. Charlie sagged against the wall while Murdock melodramatically wiped at invisible sweat on his brow, and breathed, "phew!"

There was a moment of silence as all three players luxuriated in the success of the escape. Then, the quiet was broken as Murdock piped up. "Nice work, Facey! That was some fine, fine acting."

"Oh, now, now, it was nothing, really," Face said with an off-handed wave, although he was clearly quite impressed with himself. He turned to Charlie and stuck out a hand. "Templeton Peck, at your service," he said to Charlie, flashing his most charming smile.

Charlie reached for Face's hand and shook it, grinning widely. "Templeton?" she asked. "Wow, now I see why you go by Face."

As Murdock's laughter filled the elevator, Face bristled. "It's a family name!" he fired back defensively. "Geez, this is what I get for helping you escape?"

"No," came Charlie's smooth reply, "this is what you get for feeling me up to check out my 'birthmark'." Murdock's laughter amplified, as he took unexpected pleasure in seeing the usually suave Face get so flustered.

Before Face could respond, the elevator doors opened, and the three of them strolled across the V.A. lobby to the front door unimpeded, courtesy of Gertrude having phoned lobby security to give them a heads up about the group leaving the building.

As they stepped outside, Charlie squinted upwards and paused to relish in the sunshine, before joining the boys on their walk to the van around the side of the V.A.

All three stopped upon reaching the van. Charlie took up a position along the van's side, leaning back against it and crossing her feet at the ankles. Face took notice of her stance and took the opportunity to sidle up next to her. He placed a hand on the van just above where Charlie's shoulder was pressed and adopted a casual stance as he shifted his weight to mimic Charlie's lean. He lowered his head until he was so close, Charlie could smell his minty toothpaste. She glanced at Murdock, whose mouth had pulled into a thin, tight line. "Say, Murdock," Face began. "Are you sure you don't want an extra pair of hands here? Because, really, I'm great with my hands." Face's gaze turned heated as he directed the last sentence at Charlie, who rolled her eyes.

"No," Murdock said flatly.

"What if you need to-" Face began, twisting to give Murdock a pleading look, determined not to be easily deterred.

"No."

"But say you need to scam a-"

"No."

Face let out a long, exaggerated sigh, straightening while still focusing his attention on Charlie. "That's too bad; I've got a feeling that Charlie and I could really work well together." His tone was heavily laced with innuendo.

"Yep, crying shame," Charlie replied sarcastically. "Right, time to go Murdock. Thanks for your help, Face, really." Charlie was sincere in the last sentiment. Face held his arms open wide for a hug, but Charlie didn't move from her spot, not wanting to give Face the added encouragement.

Instead, Murdock jumped into Face's arms and gave him a sloppy bear hug. "Hey don't worry, Faceyman, I'll be back soon!" Charlie couldn't help but laugh, particularly given the thoroughly unamused look Face was sporting.

"Ugh, Murdock, get…" Face struggled to pull Murdock's hands off him and wiggle out of his grasp. "Get off!" he snapped with exasperation, finally prying Murdock off of him. Murdock backed off with a Cheshire cat grin.

"You know, if B.A. were here, I'd have him punch you," Face grumbled.

"Oh, hey, where is the big guy?" Murdock asked, realizing the van's owner was absent.

Face's grin held a hint of malice. "He couldn't bear to see her being turned over to you."

Murdock eyed Face suspiciously. "Then why is he lending it to me?" Murdock asked warily.

"Well," began Face. "Every time we go on a miss-" he stopped himself mid-sentence, realizing he was in mixed company. "Every time you… come visit us for the next month, you're in charge of doing all his laundry before you go back to the V.A."

"Face!" whined Murdock. "Have you seen how big B.A.'s clothes are? It'll take ages to clean all that surface area!"

"And," Face started.

"And!" yelped Murdock. "There's an 'and'?!"

"And, every time you call him a 'mudsucker' for the next month, he gets to punch you." Face cleared his throat. "In the face."

"**These** are your friends?" Charlie asked in disbelief.

"Hard to imagine, I know," Murdock returned. "Aw, in the face? Couldn't you have bargained for at least the shoulder or something?" Murdock complained.

"Hey, you wanted the guy's van, so what do you expect?" Face said with a shrug. "It was out of my hands, buddy," he told Murdock, though his demeanour suggested otherwise. Face produced a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them to Murdock, who caught them in one fluid movement.

Murdock shook his head. "You know what? I bet he won't go through with it," he said, trying harder to convince himself than he was the two people on either side of him. "B.A. loves me, Face! We're best buddies! Faceman, I am **not** worried. No siree."

Not a single one of the faces looked sold on the assertion.

Charlie reached behind her and popped open the passenger-side door. "We better head out, Murdock," she told him with a sigh. She was so amused by the back-and-forth between Murdock and his friend, she almost hated to leave. Now that they were out of the Psych ward, and Murdock was getting the chance to interact with someone from the outside who obviously meant a lot to him, Murdock somehow seemed happier, lighter, more vibrant.

"Yeah," Murdock said wistfully, "you're right. Time to skedaddle," he told Face. "Thanks again for the help, Faceman." Face nodded as Murdock walked around the front of the van to the driver's side door. Grabbing the door handle, Murdock yanked the door open and bounced up into the seat behind the steering wheel. He turned towards Charlie, a light of excitement and anticipation now dancing in his eyes. "Ready?" he asked with a gigantic smile that promised a thousand wonderful things.

Charlie returned the look, her own eyes searching his as she returned the grin. "Ready," she nodded, feeling happier, if only for a brief moment, than she could remember feeling for ages.

Twisting the keys in the ignition, Murdock turned to call to Face through Charlie's open window. "You tell that big, ugly mudsucker I'll have his van back in a week!" he hollered.

"And get punched in the face?" Face yelled back. "No way! You kids have fun!" He raised a hand and waved to the couple as Murdock pulled out of the parking spot.

Murdock shifted the car into drive, gave two quick, farewell honks on the horn, and waved back, while Charlie waved as well. "Later, Faceman!" Murdock called, and sped away.

Before heading back into the V.A. to call a cab, Face looked on as the van's taillights shrank away into the distance, watching until they turned to twin, tiny, red pinpoints before disappearing entirely. "Crazy bugger," Face muttered with a grin.

*****

The van had just merged onto the freeway when Charlie kicked off her running shoes and propped her socked feet up on the dashboard, a contented sigh escaping her lips. She reached down into a pocket on the inside of the passenger door and extracted a map, unfolding it until it reached its full mammoth size. Charlie's plan for the journey was to focus on absolutely anything that was not Fenlon. As long as she kept her head busy with numbers, directions, and any other mundane detail possible, she figured she would be able to keep her composure and stave off grieving for the time being. She made note of the next merge point, and looked up to discover Murdock's eyes on her. "You know, I have always found it a little easier to drive if I actually look at the road," she offered dryly.

"Well, sure, as a rule, I generally try to," Murdock replied, then gestured at her feet. "But it is a bit tricky to do when the passenger starts flashing socks **that** ridiculous."

Charlie looked down and realized she was wearing a pair of neon pink socks covered in little yellow ducks. "Damn, I forgot I put these on this morning," she said with a hint of mortification. "Fine, point taken."

"Hey, don't get me wrong," Murdock was quick to respond. "I think they're adorable. Distracting, but adorable."

Eager to deflect the compliment, Charlie briskly changed the subject. "So, your buddy, Face," she began. "Is he always that… aggressive?"

"Oh, yeah, absolutely," Murdock said without hesitation. "I don't even think he has control over it anymore. I think it's like some kind of instinctive response, some genetically programmed reaction." He paused for a moment of thought, then continued. "You know how no matter how tough a dog wants to act, the second you turn on a vacuum, the dog gets scared to death and runs to hide? Kinda like that."

Charlie snickered. "Murdock, that's quite a mind you've got there," she said, shaking her head at the random analogy he'd come up with.

Murdock grinned. "There's a couple of docs at the V.A. who would agree with you on that one." He took his eyes from the road momentarily to look over at Charlie. "Thing is, it works all the time And there's got to be something to it, because Faceman gets all kinds of ladies, all the time. In fact, I've been thinking I might work some Faceman skills into my repertoire."

"Don't you dare!" Charlie gasped, then flushed a little as her brain caught up with her mouth. "What I mean," Charlie hastened to add, "is… I mean, you can go after as many ladies as you want, but I don't think Face's approach would suit you."

"Because I'm not as good-looking as him?" Murdock asked with a frown.

"What? No!" Charlie countered. "Because Face is aggressive and… I guess predatory is the word I want, and you're… sweet, and genuine." She stared hard at her ludicrous socks as she concluded quietly, "… and plenty good-looking."

Murdock let out a whoop. "I'm plenty good-looking! Yee-haw!"

"Alright, alright," Charlie said with an exasperated tone, trying desperately to keep from smiling.

"You're damn right it's all right!" Murdock sang with glee. "**I**," he said, drawing out the sound of the single letter far longer than necessary as he learned towards Charlie and poked his thumb into his own chest before finishing with, "am plenty-good looking!" He snapped back into an upright position, puffing his chest out and looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

"Man, you try to give a guy a compliment…" Charlie huffed.

Murdock allowed himself a few more chuckles before changing the subject. "So, I bet you know the most important rule about road trips, right"

Charlie furrowed her brow. "Driver picks the music?"

"Nope," replied Murdock. "Although I did bring along some Zeppelin for in –flight entertainment."

"Good call," Charlie noted.

"The most important rule of road trips," Murdock continued, "is that whatever is said in this van, stays in this van, unless otherwise stated."

"Is that so?" Charlie responded curiously.

"Yes, ma'am!" Murdock assured her. "You know, on really long road trips there's an awful lot of talking going on, and you run out of not-secret things to talk about, and you usually wind up spilling your guts about your more secret stuff. It's a scientific fact," Murdock maintained with a straight face. "That's just how long road trips work."

"Hmm," mused Charlie. "Good to know."

Murdock nodded. "Yep, it is. Think of it as being like the Cone of Silence on _Get Smart_. This big, classy van is the Cone of Silence."

Charlie was helpless to stop the laughter within her from bubbling over. The show had been a favourite for her and her father. "Murdock, the Cone of Silence never worked! Not once!"

Murdock squinted as though he was deeply pondering Charlie's claim. "You know, you **could **be right about that…" He lifted his fingers to his chin, and mimed stroking a beard in thought. "Still, the secrets-stay-here rule does apply," he concluded. "Got it?" He looked over at Charlie.

"Got it," she replied with conviction, trying to muster an all-business look.

"Alright, good," Murdock returned, his gaze swinging back to the road. "So now, why don't you tell me the truth about why you're really at the V.A.?"


	4. Chapter 4

It took Charlie a moment to process Murdock's question. As soon as it sunk in though, she felt her stomach lurch and her muscles instantly tense up. "I- I don't know what you're talking about," she told him, though her jittery gestures blatantly belied her words. Her brain shifted into overdrive, rapidly considering a mental list of the pros and cons of telling him the truth.

Murdock sighed. "Charlie, I may be crazy, but I'm not an idiot. You clearly don't have the required insanity to get a room at Chez V.A."

"How would you know?" Charlie retorted indignantly. "Maybe it only happens when you're not around."

Murdock shook his head and let out an exasperated breath. "Alright, fine. Let's just suppose that you go stark raving mad in the middle of the night while everyone else sleeps. Let's say that's true. That still leaves you some explaining to do about your claim that you were a field nurse in Vietnam."

Charlie was beginning to feel cornered. "Why does that need explaining?" she asked with a slight tremor of guilt in her voice. "I told you I was a nurse because I was a nurse, end of story." Her voice had now risen an octave or two higher, and her speech had grown rapid.

"Charlie." Murdock struggled to keep the full extent of his frustration out of his voice. "Remember a few days ago when Big Mike was outside, and he twisted his ankle? And I told him to ask you about it? You told him to walk it off, and to stay on it as much as possible so it wouldn't stiffen up."

Realizing she must have been wrong, Charlie's heart sank, but her denial continued. "So?" she countered. "That's good medical advice."

"Charlie," Murdock blurted out, "that is terrible medical advice! Even I know that a twisted ankle should be elevated and iced for God's sake! I can't imagine any trained nurse making a mistake like that!"

Charlie opened her mouth to offer another excuse, but thought twice and closed it. She exhaled with defeat and stared sightlessly out the van's passenger-side window. She knew she didn't have the heart to continue lying to Murdock, and it suddenly occurred to her that he deserved to know what was going on; given that he was driving halfway across the country with a woman who was supposed to be in hiding, keeping him in the dark could be putting him in almost as much danger as she was in. With no other reasonable options, Charlie let out a resigned "okay," turned to Murdock, and launched into the full story of her troubled reality.

*****

It took about thirty minutes for Charlie to finish the lengthy explanation of her situation. Murdock had said nothing for the duration of the story, and now the last sentence of her narration hung almost tangibly in the deafening silence encompassing the pair. Murdock was gripping the steering wheel as though he expected someone to take it away from him at any moment. His expression was completely inscrutable, and with every quiet second that passed, Charlie was growing more and more apprehensive. Time ticked by until Charlie could no longer stand the silence. With great trepidation, she tuned to the man next to her, and in a tiny, hesitant voice, finally ventured, "Murdock?"

Wordlessly, Murdock flipped on a turn signal and pulled over, slowly bringing the van to a halt on the freeway's gravel shoulder. There was a brief moment of terror as Charlie panicked that he might just leave her at the side of the road and take off. Instead, however, Murdock just turned the keys in the ignition, and the engine grumbled before dying down. He let out a breath, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. After what seemed like an eternity to Charlie, he finally opened his eyes, turned to her, and spoke, his voice flat and controlled. "Jesus, Charlie, why did you not tell me this before we left the V.A.?"

Her answer came out rather sheepishly. "I didn't want you to be involved."

"Not be involved?" Murdock exploded. "You didn't think that me accompanying you halfway across the country constituted me becoming 'involved'?"

Charlie knew it did, but being as stubborn as she was, she became immediately defensive. "Hey, you'll recall that I told you 'no' when you asked to come with me. You practically forced me to bring you!"

"Forced you?" Murdock shot back. "I did no such thing! I just…" Murdock paused and tried to recall what had in fact been said on the evening they had discussed her escape. The realization that he had left her little choice but to bring him cooled some of the heat in his words. "Alright, maybe I did," he conceded. "But once you knew I was coming with you, did you not think it was important to tell me that at any time on this little trip, we could be running into your psychotic, homicidal boyfriend?"

"**Ex**-boyfriend," Charlie was quick to correct Murdock. "My very, **very **ex-boyfriend." She sighed, suddenly exhausted, and her voice took on a tone of contrition. She turned and looked squarely into Murdock's eyes. "Murdock, I'm really sorry. I should have told you, I know. But I doubt very much that Rick would ever hurt you. It's me he'll be looking to shut up, and he's got no reason to risk going after you." Although Charlie did in fact believe Rick wouldn't hesitate to hurt Murdock if he thought Murdock meant anything to her, she desperately wanted Murdock to know she hadn't been so unfeeling as to put him in serious jeopardy. She deliberately ignored the insistent voice in her head asking w_hat does he mean to you?_

Rather than looking reassured, however, her words brought a tone of frustration to Murdock's voice. "I don't care about me getting hurt! I care about you getting hurt! How can I protect you if I don't know what's going on?" He was gesturing emphatically as he spoke.

Charlie stiffened a little. "Hey, I didn't ask you to protect me!" she shot back. "I am not some damsel in distress in need of a big, strong man to save the day!"

"Oh for God's sake, Charlie," Murdock snapped. "This is not a sexism thing, this is a logistical thing! I am far more capable of protecting you than you are capable of protecting you."

Charlie rolled her eyes. "And why is that, Murdock? Because you're a man or because you got really good at protecting people while playing dodge ball at the V.A.?"

"No, because I'm part of the-" Murdock stopped suddenly.

"Part of the what?" asked Charlie, narrowing her eyes.

Murdock began to fidget. "Part of the… V.A. self-defence class?" he offered weakly, suddenly fascinated with the dashboard.

"Bull." Charlie crossed her arms over her chest.

Murdock was caught, and he knew it. He also knew that his best chance of keeping Charlie safe was to call in his team mates for help, meaning she was bound to discover his identity sooner or later, regardless of whether or not he told her the truth now. Murdock took a deep breath and stared unwaveringly into Charlie's blue eyes. "Ever heard of the A-Team?" he asked.

"The A-Team?" she responded, puzzled. "Well, yeah, of course I have, but I don't see what this has to do with…" Charlie's voice trailed off as understanding dawned. "Oh, my God," she whispered. "You're part of the A-Team?"

Murdock nodded.

"I-" Charlie paused as a new thought occurred to her. "Wait, that's what you do when you leave the V.A., isn't it?" she gasped.

"Yup," Murdock confirmed. "I sneak out, the four of us meet up, and we help clients who have no one else to help them."

Charlie considered this explanation thoughtfully. "Well, that certainly sounds far more noble than what the media says about the A-Team," she mused.

"Yeah, the military's got us pegged as fugitives, but I promise you, we did not do what they say we did. Or… well… technically we did, but not illegally. We were under orders."

"Wow," came Charlie's soft reply. "You know, if I was the one driving, this is the part where I'd be pulling off the road," she told Murdock wryly.

He gave her a mild grin. "You see now why I wish you'd told me earlier about your predicament? The team could have been a hundred kinds of helpful in dealing with this Rick jackass."

Charlie sighed deeply. "Alright, alright, you win. I should have told you what was going on."

"Well, I'll forgive you your mistake this time; you haven't known me long enough to know that I'm always right, so I'll cut you some slack, just this once." Murdock flashed her a teasing smile.

"Lucky me," Charlie grumbled sarcastically. "So what now?"

"Well," countered Murdock, "I'll tell you what. Let's try to make it through this funeral, and when we get back to the V.A., we'll sit down with the team and decide how to neuter Rick."

Charlie mulled over the proposal for a moment. "Neuter him, huh?" she asked, the mental image transforming her expression into one of amusement.

"Oh, totally," Murdock affirmed with an amused expression of his own.

Charlie turned to Murdock and nodded. "Deal," she declared, presenting her hand to him so they could shake on it.

"Deal," Murdock concurred. He reached for her hand and pumped it a few times, his eyes never leaving hers.

Though merely a formal gesture of agreement, Charlie swore she could feel a little jolt as his hand clasped her own, a feeling she found wholly unsettling. She thought she noted a similar realization in Murdock's eyes.

Releasing her hand, Murdock coughed and turned his eyes back to the road. He checked his driver's side mirror and merged back onto the highway, pushing down on the accelerator pedal. "And we're off," he offered casually, before they lapsed into a companionable silence, both lost in thought as each wondered just where it was they were really off to.

*****

Before leaving the V.A., Charlie had anticipated that Murdock would make an enjoyable travelling companion. What surprised Charlie, however, was just how enjoyable of a companion he was turning out to be. Though the reason for the trip was a sombre one, she was so amused by and engrossed in Murdock that she had pushed her devastation over Fenlon's death from the forefront of her mind. Murdock had regaled her with a slew of A-Team stories; some were thrilling, and some were hilarious, but all of them were thoroughly entertaining.

Even the usual getting-to-know-you conversations avoided their typical blandness, and instead served as springboards to engaging conversations. Animated debates occurred over the best movies, the best books, the best music. They eagerly swapped stories about childhood antics, terrible jobs, embarrassing moments. Although Charlie and Murdock had met only a few days ago, both were equally aware of how natural their interaction was, and how fully their personalities and intellects complimented each another. Neither could deny the chemistry they recognized crackling between the two of them.

They were just past St. George, Utah when Charlie suddenly remembered there was a critical piece of information she had somehow completely forgotten to ask. "Murdock," she began, "I've been meaning to ask you: what does H.M. stand for?"

"Howling Mad," he replied.

Charlie laughed and waited for a punch line. When it didn't arrive, she realized he was serious. "What? Come on, your parents did not name you Howling Mad," she chided.

"Maybe they should have," Murdock replied with a shrug.

"But they didn't, so what is it really?" Charlie prodded.

"I dunno." Murdock's eyes remained focused on the road, concentrating on some invisible point far off in distance.

"Murdock, that's ridiculous. How could you not know-" Charlie stopped speaking abruptly as she realized this was the first time since they had pulled off the road and dropped their mutual bombshells that Murdock was speaking to her without directing a single glance her way. She sensed that perhaps she had hit upon some nerve. She decided to change her approach slightly. "Remember the most important rule of road trips?" Her voice had adopted a compassionate intonation.

Murdock's lips twitched in a tiny grin. "Nothin' worse than having your own words used against you," he grumbled. A few more quiet moments slid by before he exhaled a long breath of resignation and spoke. "You know, I usually like to wait for my ninth or tenth date with a girl before I unload my baggage, but what the hell."

Charlie smiled. "Good thing we're not on a date then, huh?" she asked wryly.

"Darlin', you are breaking my heart here," Murdock drawled with a touch of melodrama, as he looked over at the beautiful woman he was with.

Charlie smothered a giggle. "The name?" she reminded him with exasperation.

"Right, right, the name," he said reluctantly. "The name." He shifted in his seat and slung his right arm casually around the back of the passenger-side headrest. He took the other hand off the steering wheel for a few seconds to rub his chin pensively, trying to decide where to start. "Okay," he finally opened with. "So my mom had me when she was pretty young. I think she was like eighteen, nineteen, somewhere around there. I don't know my dad, I've never met my dad, and he sure as hell didn't stick around to meet me. A friend of my mom's once told me he left as soon as he found out my mom was pregnant."

Charlie's heart went out to Murdock. She had plenty of friends who were raised by one parent, but she knew from a few close male friends raised by single mothers that not having a father around could be especially tough on boys. Instinctively, she reached behind her headrest where Murdock's arm was draped, and pulled the arm back around to the front. She interlaced her fingers with his and rested both their hands across her lap.

Murdock's face registered surprise as he looked down at their interlocked hands, and he raised his eyes to Charlie's, whereupon he nodded and offered a warm smile of gratitude before continuing his story. "So it was just Mom and me until I was five. And I remember almost nothing from those times, but one of the things that stuck in my head was the sound of her voice when she called my name. And the only name I can ever remember her calling me was, 'H.M.'" Murdock paused for a grin. "Well, that and 'Monkey'. For some reason, she would also call me Monkey."

Charlie chuckled. "Her nickname for you was the name of a silly, rambunctious, mischievous, noisy, little thing? Yeah, I can't imagine why she'd call you that." Charlie's sarcastic observation held a clear underlying affection.

Murdock turned to Charlie, stuck his tongue out, and blew a raspberry in her direction.

Predictably, Charlie burst into laughter at the ridiculous gesture. "I feel like I should find a teacher and tell on you," she remarked between giggles. Unbidden, the word _irresistible_ popped into her head.

"Anyway," Murdock said, clearing his throat, his face showing his momentary bemusement briefly before reverting back to its previous serious demeanour. "Everything else I know about those first few years is all hearsay. Evidently, my mom and I lived in an apartment in a pretty rough neighbourhood in Texas, and my grandparents lived in California. Now, either no one remembers, or no one is willing to tell me why, but for some reason, my mom and my grandparents had gone through some type of falling out about a year-and-a-half before I was born, and neither side had spoken to the other since. In fact, my grandparents didn't have any idea that I even existed until I was like three or four."

Charlie squeezed Murdock's hand harder, her face a mask of sympathy.

Murdock turned his head to face Charlie for a moment before shifting his eyes back to the road and carrying on with his story. "So anyway, my mom died when I was five, and-"

Charlie interrupted with a sharp intake of breath. "Oh, Murdock, I'm sorry. That's terrible."

"Yeah, I'm not gonna lie, it was rough. But the silver cloud was that when my grandparents were informed about my mom's death, they immediately stepped up and took custody of me."

"Wow, three cheers for Grandma and Grandpa Murdock!" Charlie exclaimed.

"Yeah, definitely," Murdock said in agreement. "And they lived in this big house, in this great neighbourhood packed with kids, and parks, and I loved my new school, and they even had this golden retriever named Billy who was just the best dog ever." There was pause as Murdock thought back to his early years with his grandparents, and the happiness the memories brought him was unmistakeably written on his face. "God," he said with a goofy grin, "I remember I had this teacher in grade three named Ms. Jameson… I had such a crush on her." Eventually, he returned to the present while Charlie watched with amusement. Her mental image of a seven-year-old Murdock was one of a little kid wearing the exact same hat he was wearing now while running around in a tiny pair of classic Converse high-tops.

Murdock gave his head a little shake to help him refocus on the question he was trying to answer. "Right, so back to the H.M. thing… Being five, I actually had no idea that H.M. was supposed to stand for something; I just thought it was my name, so I had no idea what it was short for. My grandparents didn't either, thanks to the complete absence of communication between them and my mom. My grandparents checked the hospital for records, but apparently my mom must've gone into labour at home, and for whatever reason chose to just have me there, so there was nothing any hospital could tell us. Then, they checked government records for a birth certificate, but found none; my guess is that my mom never got around to it. I needed a birth certificate to register for school though, so my grandparents had to apply for one. They wanted to respect my mom's choice of name, even if they had no idea what it stood for, so they legally registered my name as HM, with just the two letters, no periods." Murdock drew a deep, cleansing breath, turning to Charlie as he exhaled. "Bet you're sorry you asked now, huh?"

Charlie looked at him with alarm. "Of course not! I feel privileged that you told me," she was quick to inform him.

Murdock glanced down at the hand she was now tightly clutching with both hands, having laid her other hand over their interlocked fingers about halfway through the story. Charlie followed his gaze, and released his hand quickly when she determined what he was looking at. "Sorry," she said quietly.

"Hey, don't be; I'm not!" Murdock informed her with a suggestive smile. Charlie rolled her eyes, but Murdock was happy to see her smile as well. "You know, you're the first person I've actually told that whole story to?"

"Really?" Charlie returned. She felt a little jolt of joy in her chest, and realized knowing Murdock trusted her to such a degree was a wonderful feeling. "I somehow seem to have that effect on people," she told him. "I guess I just have one of those faces that make people feel safe about confiding in me."

Murdock furrowed his brow. "I don't think that's the reason," he offered. "I think it's your eyes."

"My eyes?"

"Yeah, they have this sort of… inner light to them. I mean, your eyes somehow convey this reassurance that you won't judge people, that you've got this tremendous capacity for understanding."

Charlie squirmed in her seat a little, feeling mild embarrassment, not used to the compliments and attention. "All that from my eyes, eh?" she asked, trying to downplay the kind words, if only slightly.

Murdock looked over at her and winked. "Oh, totally," he confirmed. "Well, that plus the fact that you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

Charlie's grew red almost immediately, and she looked down at lap. "Um… thank you?" she responded weakly. She could not recall any occasion where Rick had presented her with such overt flattery.

Murdock returned to focusing on the road again. His face was lit by a grin. "My pleasure!"

Afraid that her resolve to maintain a platonic relationship with Murdock was crumbling fast, she swiftly switched on the radio, sunk back in her seat, and lapsed into silence as she let the strains of classic rock guitar wash over her.

*****

Charlie experienced a moment of complete disorientation when her eyes fluttered open, before the knowledge of where she was flooded back to her as she became more fully awake.

Murdock looked over at her as she stirred, remarking, "Hey, there you are! Good to see you again."

Turning her attention to Murdock, she realized she must have drifted off shortly after Murdock's story about his name. She rubbed her eyes, and sat up straight. "Sorry about that," Charlie said with a yawn, bringing one hand to the small of her back to knead at a knot that had formed. "I must have been more tired than I realized."

An impish light entered his eyes. "Don't apologize to me, young lady. I kinda liked watching you sleep."

The admission brought a riot of butterflies to her stomach.

"Plus," he continued, "you snored like a bear the whole time, so that also made it pretty entertaining."

Twin red circles appeared on the apples of Charlie's cheeks. "I did not!" she huffed.

Murdock laughed. "Yeah, you're right; I just wanted to see how you would react."

Charlie reached out and swatted Murdock on the arm. "Jerk," she grumbled with a grin. "So where are we?"

"We just passed a sign that says we're apparently in a town called Sandy, in Utah," Murdock informed her. "And I'm just about ready to hunker down in a motel someplace for the night."

Charlie gave a sigh of relief. "Good, because I am totally ready for a break from this van."

"If you ever meet the guy who owns this van, make sure you don't tell him that. I think he'd marry it if it was legal."

Giggling, Charlie nodded and said, "Duly noted."

"Although," Murdock mused thoughtfully, "I kind of wish it was legal, because I bet B.A. looks great in white."

"Man, I cannot **wait** to meet this guy," Charlie managed between chuckles.

Just as the sun was disappearing from the horizon, Charlie spotted a sign on the side of the interstate indicating there were lodgings close by. She pointed it out to Murdock, who merged onto the off-ramp. Both occupants of the van were thrilled just to be rid of the interstate they'd been confined to for so many hours.

Moments later, Charlie and Murdock found themselves in downtown Sandy, flanked by suburbia on all sides. In the distance, a vast mountain range stood sentinel over the city, casting a majestic feeling over the streets below. As they drove, both Charlie and Murdock saw elements of their respective childhoods in Sandy, the middle-class structures and the leisurely pace of the citizens invoking a familiar feeling. A companionable silence developed in the van as each passenger took in the surroundings of a place neither had been before.

Though the planning of the trip had been brief and vague by necessity, Murdock and Charlie had decided ahead of time that their best choice for accommodations would be any small motel they could find outside of the downtown core of whatever city they stopped in. The two were fairly certain that the possibility of Rick checking hotels in Utah was incredibly remote, but had no desire to take unnecessary chances either.

Embarking on an exploratory tour, Murdock and Charlie drove around for a little less than a half-an-hour until they eventually located a motel they agreed was suitably unremarkable. The motel parking lot they pulled into was dotted with a few big rigs, and several bland, practical cars. The vehicular makeup of the lot told them that this was a place strictly used for convenience, and certainly would not be on any tourist itinerary. Murdock aimed the van at what he assumed was supposed to be the motel's main entrance. There was certainly nothing inviting about the two story complex, or at least, nothing on its exterior. The concrete path running parallel to the doors of the rooms was covered in garbage, with discarded beer cans, newspapers, and cigarette butts liberally strewn about. The walls were stucco, painted a sickly beige and marked by graffiti every few feet. The windows looking outwards from the rooms were dingy with a thin, brownish film covering the glass of every window. There were no visible patrons outside, though both loud music and argumentative yelling sounded from a number of rooms.

"It's certainly not the Ritz-Carlton, is it?" Charlie commented.

"No kidding," Murdock agreed. "But it's just one night Charlie; it'll be fine."

"I know it will be." Charlie was reluctant to admit it, but she knew that as long as Murdock was around, she would feel safe and strong.

Avoiding the lot's ample supply of potholes, Murdock navigated his way to the front door of the motel, and slowed the car to a stop in front. "Wait here while I go handle the rental," Murdock instructed Charlie. "That way, the front desk won't see you, and on the off chance Rick calls to see if anyone matching your description is here, no one will point him your way."

Charlie nodded, impressed by Murdock's forethought. He swung the driver's-side door open and swung his legs out of the van, giving his tense muscles a good stretch before standing. He gave Charlie a wink and made for the entrance. Through the open van windows, Charlie could hear him singing, "In the Ghetto" as he walked away, and she couldn't help but smile.

Charlie didn't have to wait long for Murdock to return. He climbed back into the van. "All set!"

He double-checked the room number on a key he held in his hand, and drove across the parking lot, coming to a stop in front of a fairly banged-up door. Charlie slid her shoes back on, and opened the van door with stiff arms, stepping out onto even stiffer legs. She linked her hands in front of her and raised then as high over her head as she could, groaning as her muscles protested the stretch. Murdock had disembarked as well, and was now at the rear of the van, desperately trying to avert his eyes as Charlie's stretch resulted in her chest jutting out and the fabric of her shirt pulling taught across her front, clinging to her every curve. The van doors squeaked a little as Murdock pulled them open and fished out both his duffel bag and Charlie's. Charlie moved towards him and reached out a hand for her bag, but Murdock shook his head and shooed the hand away, saying, "I've got it, don't worry," giving the van doors a healthy push to close them, first shoving one, then the other. A brief tug at one of the handles assured him the doors were locked, and he started for the door of the room.

Though Murdock's act of carrying her bag was a fairly minimal gesture, Charlie felt a flood of warmth at the thoughtfulness of it. The idea of a man carrying out such a considerate act as though it were second-nature, minor though it was, was completely foreign to her.

Charlie followed Murdock to the door. "So, is this one mine or yours?" she asked.

"Um… both," he replied.

Charlie's eyes flew to his. "We're sharing a room?" she asked, visibly startled.

"Yes," confirmed Murdock. "It would be far too difficult for me to keep an eye on two rooms, and we need to make sure you're safe if Rick shows up." Murdock was, in fact, being completely honest about his reason for choosing a single room, and hoped he sounded reassuring.

Charlie opened her mouth to speak, but Murdock quickly spoke up before she could get a word out. "This is purely strategy," he told her. "The smaller the space I have to watch is, the easier it is for me… I mean we, to defend ourselves. I am **not **getting any ideas, remember?" Murdock wondered if it was as obvious to Charlie that his last sentence had been a complete lie as it was to him. With the sun almost set, the last rays of light caught her hair as she stood in front of him, and the auburn waves of her hair shone like silk. _Damn, I have nothing __**but**__ ideas now_ he chided himself.

Charlie narrowed her eyes and looked at Murdock suspiciously. Her brain couldn't seem to decide she should be terrified or excited. She realized she felt a little of both. Her words were slow and more than a little uncertain. "Well… I guess you **do **have a point about it being easier to protect one room…" She took a deep breath, feeling the way she imagined one must feel right before they jumped out of a plane, hoping to God the parachute opened. "Alright. But no ideas," she warned him with a wag of her index finger.

Clearly relieved at her understanding, Murdock's lips eased into the slow-burn smile that had made her knees weak on that first morning in the V.A. yard. He inserted the key into the lock and opened the door, proceeding with a deep, formal bow as he swung an arm in a sweeping arc, inviting her to go ahead of him.

As she walked into the room, she realized that part of her was desperately hoping that he had more ideas than either of them could count.

*****

As it turned out, the motel's dilapidated exterior had been an excellent indicator of what the motel's rooms would look like. The room was little more than a box, a tiny bathroom tacked on at one end. Although it stood to reason that the carpet in the room must have been fashionable at some point, with its current balding, day-glo orange shag and collection of stains reminiscent of a Jackson Pollock painting, it was difficult to imagine when such a hideous travesty would have ever been considered desirable. The room did have the luxury of a television, but the remote control was firmly bolted to a table two inches away from the set. _Who the hell steals a remote for a TV they'll never see again?_ Murdock wondered, thinking, not for the first time, that there were far more crazy people outside the V.A. psych ward than there were in it. In one corner, a broken-down chair rested with one leg on a coaster to level it out. A number of springs had torn through the fabric and stuck out from the chair's side, and Murdock pointed it out to Charlie, saying, "Check that out: this place is so bad, even the springs are making a break for it."

Despite the fact that Charlie was standing in the middle of what may have been the single ugliest thing she had ever seen in her life, she couldn't help but laugh as she pictured chair springs devising a plan to run away. She turned to look at the miserable excuse for a bed placed in the centre of the room, its headboard pressed against a wall. The comforter, pilling and unravelling in a bottom corner, looked as though someone had eaten an argyle cardigan and a paisley pair of pants, and then thrown them up to cover the bed. A metallic glint caught her eye, and she gasped when she realized what it was. "Oh my God. Murdock, look," she gestured towards an industrial steel box welded to the side of the bed's metal frame. "The bed takes **quarters**."

Murdock exploded with laughter, clutching his sides. He gasped for air as he tried to point out to Charlie what he had been noticing at the same time she'd noticed the quarter receptacle. He finally gave up on catching his breath and just pointed.

Charlie traced the invisible line his finger was pointing along, following it to the room's one window. There, balled up and scrunched into a pathetic attempt at curtains, were several huge swatches of aluminium foil. Charlie's laughter joined Murdock's as she attempted to ask, "Why the hell would anyone… ? And why in the F would they use aluminium…?" She could not finish her thought though, and gave in to the hysterical laughter she been trying to hold back. She doubled over with laugher, and they both carried on until tears ran down their faces.

When the laughter began to subside, both made a concerted effort not to look at one another, because every time their eyes met, they both found themselves dissolving into fits of giggles once again.

When Charlie and Murdock finally did settle down, Charlie announced that she was taking a shower, while Murdock settled down in the beat-up chair sitting on the coaster, and picked up the phone to call Hannibal. Just as he was reaching for the phone's receiver, he heard a little yelp from the bathroom, followed by several thuds. In less than a second he was on his feet, tossing the phone aside as he stood and called, "Charlie?" while instinctively moving towards the bathroom.

He had only gone a few steps when Charlie hollered back, "Roaches! Just roaches. In the tub. I got 'em!" Murdock felt an instantly calming relief wash over him, while simultaneously being impressed by the quick work she'd made of the bugs. He returned to the chair when he heard the rush of water pouring from the shower a minute later. He struggled desperately to not picture how the woman on the other side of the shower curtain looked at this moment.

He quickly retrieved the phone from where he had dropped it on the floor and dialled a number he knew by heart. He crossed his fingers and hoped Charlie took long showers; he wanted a chance to talk to the team with Charlie out of earshot. It was time for a long-distance team meeting.

*****

By some lovely stroke of luck, Murdock's phone call reached not just one of his team mates, but all three. Hannibal and B.A. had made the fortunate decision to join Face at his most recently scammed luxury apartment so the three of them could go over their current finances, and consider the list of potential clients seeking help.

Face picked up the phone after two rings. "Hello?"

"Faceman!" Murdock exclaimed. "You miss me yet?"

"Murdock!" Face responded with undisguised glee. "Hi! Hang on a sec." Over the line, Murdock could hear Face instructing Hannibal and B.A. to each pick up another phone in the apartment so the whole team could be on the line at once. Hannibal was the first to join them on the phone. "Hello, Captain!" he greeted Murdock happily. Moments later, B.A. joined them on the line. "Hey, Crazy-man," he grunted.

"Howdy, gentlemen," Murdock offered, his enthusiasm evident. "So, did you, Face?"

"Did I what?" Face asked, confused.

"Miss me!"

"Oh, that," Face replied. "Yes, of course I missed you," Face said lightly. "In fact, we've all been pining for you since you left."

Murdock laughed. "You know, I do love being pined. Bet you missed me most of all, huh Big Guy?"

"Shut up, fool," B.A. shot back.

"Yeah, I knew you missed me, buddy. I just knew it!"

A big fan of cutting to the chase, Hannibal bluntly queried, "So what's up, Captain? Face said your lady friend is one good-lookin' broad; you two kids having a good time?"

"You mean aside from the fact that her angry ex-boyfriend may or may not be looking to kill us? Yeah, total blast."

His revelation was met with an utterly baffled silence.

It was Face who finally spoke up. "Uh… what?"

Murdock sighed. "Take a seat guys," he advised, then launched into a retelling of what he now knew to be the truth of Charlie's situation.

It took him about ten minutes to relate the story. By the time he was done, he could no longer hear the shower running, but when Charlie didn't reappear, Murdock figured she was probably just giving herself some extra pampering to help her wind down. He decided he still had time to talk to the team about a few more of his concerns regarding Charlie's safety; he had not mentioned any of it to Charlie, not wanting to scare her unnecessarily.

There was an initial period of silence after the completion of the tale, as the three team members in Face's apartment attempted to absorb the full weight of Murdock's words.

"Hannibal, you think maybe this is just more jibber-jabber from this crazy fool?" B.A. asked gruffly, though his tone suggested that not even he believed that particular theory.

"Nope," Hannibal asserted. "But I also don't think this is a one-man job either. Where are you, Captain?"

"Place called Sandy, Utah, Colonel. But I need you to do a few things before you look for a way to join us. Got a pen?" Murdock wanted to know.

There was rustling on the line, followed by Face's voice confirming, "Ready."

A split-second before Murdock began his requests, Charlie emerged from the bathroom. Though she had put the jeans she'd been wearing all day back on, she had brought a clean t-shirt into the bathroom in advance, and felt completely refreshed in the black cotton shirt with a low, square neckline. Damp tendrils of hair clung to her face, as she vigorously rubbed a towel over her locks. Though she had not intended to re-enter the main room soundlessly, that was in fact what had happened; from his seated position, with his back to her, Murdock was completely unaware that she stood a few feet behind him. Though her instincts told her not to, Charlie gave in to temptation, and took advantage of her covert position to eavesdrop on Murdock's phone call.

"Alright, so first of all," she heard Murdock say, "I pretty sure we've had a pickup truck tailing us since Vegas. I might have lost 'em because I didn't see them for the last two hours of today's drive, but I figure I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"Good man," Hannibal commented.

Charlie's eyes grew wide at Murdock's words. Why in God's name hadn't he told her? She felt a mix of fear and irritation wondering what else he hadn't bothered to inform her of.

"So Faceman, you remember that girl from the DMV you went on a couple dates with?"

Face thought for a moment, trying to place a face to the girl Murdock referred to. "Girl from the DMV…" he thought out loud. "The DMV… Oh, wait, you mean Sherry? The one who started talking about long-term commitment on date number two?"

"That's the one," Murdock confirmed, rolling his eyes.

"Aw, Murdock, you're not gonna ask me to call her, are you? Do you have any idea how much crying I had to put up with when I told her there wouldn't be a date number three?"

"Well, Hannibal, B.A., you guys break any hearts at the DMV lately?" Murdock put forth indulgently.

"No," Hannibal returned.

"No, sucka," an unmistakable voice said.

"Thanks a lot guys," Face grumbled sarcastically. "Fine, what do you need me to do?"

"'Atta boy, Faceman!" Murdock enthused. "Alright, I've got the license plate of the truck, so I need you to go down to the DMV and use all that Facey charm to find out who the truck's registered to." He read the plate numbers to Face.

"Ugh," Face responded very unhappily, as he scribbled down the digits. "You know she's gonna make me go on our third date."

Hannibal snorted. "Oh, poor you. Captain, did Charlie recognize the truck from anywhere?"

"She doesn't know yet." Murdock shook his head as he spoke. Charlie knew immediately that "she" was a reference to her. She wondered if the conversation was still about the pickup truck that had followed them, or if the subject had changed and the A-Team was now talking about something entirely different that she didn't know about.

"Yeah, I guess I could see not telling her; she does have an awful lot on her plate as it is," Hannibal mused.

"Exactly." Murdock said gratefully. "Now the other thing is, I wanna try and get a line on where this scumbag is. He's out on bail, so Face could probably scam Rick's file if he cons as a bail bondsman."

"Sure, sure, just keep piling the work on good old Face," came Face's overwrought complaint.

As he frequently did when Face balked at a necessary task, Hannibal employed the tactic of appealing to Face's vanity. "Face is right, Murdock; don't forget, Face is getting pretty old now, and he probably can't scam as well as he used to." For whatever reason, Hannibal's strategy worked every time, and this time was no exception.

"Old?" Face gasped. "All due respect, Hannibal, but you're no spring chicken yourself, you know. I'm as good as I've ever been at conning- Murdock, I got it all taken care of."

"Aw, Facey, I didn't doubt you for one second," Murdock soothed. "That file should have an address and phone number where the bail bondsman can find him for the return of the bail money. I figure you could bug whatever place he happens to be in, and B.A., can you tap his phone line?"

"'Course I can, fool. Don't be asking me if I **can**. Ask me if I **will**," barked B.A.

"You've got some serious anger issues, B.A.," Murdock told him in an unmistakably patronizing tone. "I'm gonna set up an appointment for you with my psychiatrist."

"Hannibal! I'm gonna kill this fool," B.A. snapped.

"Alright, alright, Murdock, we'll take care of this stuff, and try calling you in the van once we have anything."

"Thanks, Colonel. Glad to hear it. I gotta get some sleep, so –"

Face cut Murdock off. "Hang on, I've got a message for you!"

Murdock couldn't imagine who'd have a message for him. Simultaneously, Charlie listened carefully, wondering what was so important that Murdock's goodbye had been cut off.

"B.A.'s mom was in town yesterday, and she was so disappointed you weren't here," Face told him.

"Nuts!" Murdock frowned with genuine remorse. "How is my beautiful lady?"

Charlie bristled.

"She was glad to see Scooter, I can tell you that," Hannibal said, clearly amused.

Murdock snickered. "Oh my god, I love that woman," he told the team.

"She kept talking about that Thanksgiving weekend we all spent at her place; she's **still** thrilled about it." Face's voice held the same warmth all the team members' voices did when they spoke of B.A.'s mom.

"Oh God, that was great!" Murdock exclaimed. "It was the first time I slept at her place, and remember how she woke me up?"

"Blueberry pancakes in bed for every one of us," Hannibal sighed fondly.

"Yeah, that woman really knows how to wake a man up in the morning," Murdock asserted wistfully.

Hearing only one side of the conversation, and what she mistakenly thought was lust in his voice, Charlie realized Murdock must be talking about a woman he had a relationship with back in L.A. The flawed conclusion created an overwhelming combination of sorrow and jealousy.

A sudden thought occurred to Murdock. "You didn't tell her where I was, did you?" Mrs. B. had grown so fond of Murdock that lately, anytime she heard he was out of the V.A., she would she would find the pilot a blind date to go out with before he returned to the ward. "Crazy boy like you needs a good woman, child," she had told him. Unfortunately, the protests Murdock had presented to the formidable Mrs. B. had fallen on deaf ears.

"Oh, see Hannibal?" Face declared. "I knew we were forgetting something."

"Don't know why mama is so worried about you finding a lady," B.A. growled.

"Because she loves me?" offered Murdock.

Murdock heard B.A. grumble something that sounded suspiciously like expletives.

Eager to override the constant bickering of Murdock and B.A., Hannibal interjected, briskly stating, "She doesn't know Captain. No blind dates for you this time."

"Phew," Murdock returned. "And you especially can't tell her I'm here with Charlie. You all know what'll happen if she finds out."

Face laughed. "She'll give you the third degree and make you promise to marry Charlie? Oh, that might be too good to pass up." Murdock could almost picture the idiotic grin Face must have been sporting.

Again, Hannibal jumped in. "That's a 10-4, Captain. You can tell her when you get back."

"Don't count on it," Murdock replied wryly. "Alright, thanks guys. Call back if you find anything out. Bye!" All three team members returned the sign-off, and Murdock placed the receiver back in the cradle, feeling considerably lighter now that the team was on board and working on an offensive.

Charlie remained motionless outside the bathroom door, momentarily paralyzed with disbelief. Based on what she had just heard of the conversation, she was certain Murdock had just asked his team to lie to a woman, who he claimed to love, about his whereabouts and who he was with. Charlie's chest felt tight, and hot coals of anger ignited deep in her belly. Logic told her that if Murdock wanted to keep his location and Charlie a secret from another woman, he must be fully intending to take his relationship with Charlie far beyond the platonic interactions they were currently engaged in – why else would he need to lie to this other woman? A second infuriating thought then occurred to Charlie: _like hell a single room is easier to protect_, she seethed. She felt disgusted with herself for misjudging Murdock so completely. He was not the sweet, genuine man she had told him he was; he was a devious slime ball working his slick agenda on her. Letting her damp towel fall to the floor, she couldn't decide whether to cry, or haul off and deck him. She ultimately settled on a third option.

Storming across the room, she made a beeline for a rickety wicker table near the room's door, snatching her keys and purse.

"Oh, hey, Charlie!" Murdock greeted her as she came into sight. He grinned broadly, oblivious to her ire. "I'm getting hungry. Wanna order a pizza?"

Charlie wheeled on him, and he was immediately alarmed by the outrage flaring in her eyes. She narrowed her eyes and looked him dead in the face, before she spat, "Go to hell, you son of a bitch." Then, without waiting for a response, she turned and yanked the door open, stepped purposefully through it, and slammed it so hard a screw fell out of one of the hinges, before she disappeared into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Perhaps if Murdock had leaped to his feet and ran full tilt from the motel the second Charlie had finished firing her vicious parting words at him, it might have been possible for him to catch up with her before she was swallowed by the surrounding darkness of the evening. Perhaps.

Unfortunately, as the door slammed on the sub-standard room, Murdock experienced a moment of complete paralysis, both physical and mental. His brain took several moments to absorb Charlie's words, and even when the words did register, he couldn't make any sense of them. He remained frozen in the lumpy chair with scratchy fabric, and wondered what the hell had just happened. Surely, no one was **that** opposed to pizza. What in God's name could have happened between taking a shower and being asked about pizza that would induce such fiery hatred of him? Murdock concluded that the only way to deduce what on earth was going on in her head was to ask her. Once he hit upon this realization, Murdock suddenly became aware of the fact that Charlie was running around at night in a strange city, and doing so with a homicidal ex on the loose and looking for her.

"Shit," he muttered, and finally jumped to his feet. He crossed the room in two long strides, grabbing the room key and van key he had dropped on the table right next to the bolted-down TV remote. He jerked open the door and dashed out into the night, realizing that as long as he had the van keys, Charlie had to be on foot, and hopefully, couldn't have made it far.

His hand shook slightly as he unlocked the van, and he swung himself up into the driver's seat once he had the door open. The van's tires shrieked in protest as he peeled out of the lot, watching along the lines of his headlights as they lit the dark places they danced over. Murdock rolled down his window on the off chance that Charlie might be nearby and decide to call to him. With a sick feeling in his stomach, he squinted into shadows, his driving reckless as he focused the majority of his attention on the search. Several cars blasted him angrily as the van drifted onto the wrong side of the road and ran stop signs.

As he continued his frantic quest to find Charlie, he tried to push a nagging collection of feelings to the back of his mind. On plenty of occasions, members of the A-Team had gone missing, both in the war, and on missions, and they had disappeared in far more dangerous places than Sandy, Utah. Murdock had worried over missing cohorts, but he had always maintained a calm demeanour when the situation had arisen, knowing that somehow, things would work themselves out. He had never experienced the urgency or sheer terror he was currently feeling, barrelling down the streets of Utah while beads of sweat dropped from his forehead. He knew Charlie was a capable, bright woman, but the awareness of that fact did absolutely nothing to assuage his panic. Prehistoric though it was, all he wanted to do was save her, bring her to safety, and shield her from anything bad ever happening to her again.

With such thoughts knocking around the forefront of his consciousness, Murdock was finding it harder and harder to deny what he felt for Charlie. He suspected he might be falling in love with her, and he found the notion terrifying. After all, what could he offer a woman? He lived in a psych ward, with more or less no assets to his name, and no job except a spot on the A-Team that put his life in danger every time he set out on a mission with them. Any kind of serious, long-term relationship with a woman was out of the question. Worse still, any woman who wanted to be with him would be dragged down into his reality, and all the limits, baggage, dangers, and restrictions that came with it. No matter what he felt for Charlie, he could never act on it, he realized. Down that road lay nothing but heartbreak.

Having come to this bleak conclusion, Murdock turned his full attention back to the task at hand. No matter how futile a relationship with Charlie would be, he was determined to protect her for the duration of their trip. He pushed all his troubling thoughts about his lack of a future with Charlie from his head; in the here and now, he had to find her. He increased his pressure on the gas pedal to accelerate the already speeding van. He had to find her.

*****

The Murdock who returned to what was likely the crummiest motel in Utah was a Murdock who was far more frazzled and panicked than he had ever been during his life at the V.A. Two hours of fruitless search had netted him nothing other than a couple of drunks looking for a brawl. Completely out of ideas, he had decided to return to the motel on the off chance that Charlie might have come back, or perhaps left a message for him. He anticipated that he was far more likely to find no trace of her whatsoever, at which point he intended to call the rest of the A-Team to see if they could cook up any ideas about what to do.

Murdock parked the van carelessly, bumping a curb and missing altogether the yellow lines that designated a parking spot. He stepped from the van feeling drained, and slammed the driver's side door with a bang B.A. would have winced at. As he trudged towards his motel room, he saw that the light was on inside, but he had dashed from the place so fast when he had gone after Charlie, he felt entirely sure that he hadn't had the wherewithal to remember to turn it off.

He slipped his key in the door, opening it when he heard the lock click. He made it about half a foot inside the door, and froze. Several dull thuds had just come from the bathroom. Murdock instinctively reached for a small pistol from an inner jacket pocket. Levelling it at the bathroom door, he took several steps forward, until he had a clean line of sight on the bathroom's doorway. He raised his voice and called steadily, "Whoever's in there, get out here now, slowly. I've got a loaded gun, and it's not my first day on the job with it, muchacho."

The intruder walked slowly from the bathroom. Murdock gasped with shock as the identity of his target became visible.

It was Charlie.

Murdock felt a wave of relief so intense, his knees almost buckled, and he did in fact have to take a small step back to steady himself.

Charlie's face was red and swollen, and it was clear to him she had been crying. Still, her current facial expression was not one of sadness, but rather, one of incredible irritation. "Put the gun down Murdock, I just had to get rid of a few more roaches," she explained woodenly.

Still reeling, Murduck returned the pistol to an inside jacket pocket. Now that his terror had been remedied, a white-hot rage took over. "Jesus Christ, Charlie, what the hell were you thinking?"

"What was I thinking?" Charlie repeated incredulously, her voice now very nearly a shout. "I was thinking I overheard your phone call Murdock! I was thinking of how badly I had misjudged you when I thought you were a sweet, honest guy. Turns out, you make me sick! And just so we're clear, I'm only back here because I don't know how else to get to the funeral if you don't drive me there, so looks like I'm stuck getting there with the likes of you."

It was Murdock's turn to be incredulous. "The likes of me?!" he fired back with a tone that suggested he was far more angry than even his face seemed to imply. "And what the hell was so terrible about my phone call anyway? I didn't say anything bad about you – " He paused as he suddenly realized what he thought she must be referring to. "Because I didn't tell you about the truck following us? You risked your life and scared the hell out of me because I didn't tell you about the truck?" Murdock's voice had risen to a yell. "Are you frigging kidding me?"

Charlie felt a slight jolt in her chest upon hearing his description of how frightened he had been, largely because it conflicted radically with her new impression of Murdock. The subsequent moment of pause was fleeting however, as her anger resurfaced almost instantly. "Oh, come on, Murdock!" she exploded, taking a step closer to him. "Yeah, of course the truck thing made me mad, because you clearly don't see me as your equal if you pull a stunt like that."

"Charlie, that's not –" Murdock's denial was cut off by Charlie.

"But you know damn well that you've got a far bigger secret that you decided not to tell me; did you and your buddies have a good laugh about stupid ol' Charlie? You swap stories about women you guys use and pretend to care about?" Charlie sneered, even as tears sprung to her eyes.

Murdock threw his hands up in the air. "Charlie, what the hell are you talking about?" he cried. He felt like he was watching a foreign language film without subtitles: he could see what was in front of him, but didn't have a clue what was going on.

Charlie's eyes flashed fury as she stared intently into the rich, brown eyes of the man now inches from her. Murdock saw the wounded and deeply hurt feelings etched plainly on her face, and even though he had no idea what it was he was supposed to have done wrong, he hated himself for having any role in causing such evident pain in Charlie. "I'm talking about your 'other woman'," she spat. "You know, your 'beautiful lady'? The one who 'wakes you up' so well? The one who can't know about me?" She narrowed her eyes and jabbed a finger at Murdock's chest. "How could you? How could you be so cruel? What, you figured you'd just jump in my pants so I could help you betray this 'other woman'? You're a coward, Murdock. A heartless, selfish coward." Charlie could feel a tear slipping down her cheek, and hated that he was seeing her cry over him.

"Other woman?" he exclaimed, now entirely lost. "There is no other-" Suddenly, the subtitles appeared. "Oh my God, Charlie, I was talking about B.A.'s mother! B.A.'s sixty-something mother!" Murdock didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Instead of talking to me, you risked your life over B.A.'s mother?" His voice had risen once again.

Charlie's mouth gaped open and she stood stock still for nearly a minute. She recalled what she had heard during the phone call, and wondered if he was telling the truth now. "B.A.'s mother knows how to 'wake a man up'?" She asked cynically, though a great deal of bluster had vanished from her voice.

"She made me and the guys pancakes in bed," he informed her dryly.

"Why can't she know about me?"

"Because she loves playing matchmaker." Murdock's voice was monotone and flat. "If she knew I was somewhere with a girl, I'd never hear the end of it."

Charlie realized Murdock was being honest. She looked into his eyes and suddenly wondered why she had ever thought it logical to ascribe such horrible qualities to a man whose inherent goodness had been obvious to her from the moment she had met him. Charlie immediately felt like a tremendous fool, and quickly felt the need to defend herself. "Look, I was wrong, I'm sorry. But," she rushed ahead, "how can you blame me when you've been trying to hook up with me since day one?"

"So what, this is my fault?" Murdock retorted. He ran his hand through his hair, agitated. "Geez, Charlie, you make me sound like some lecherous creep who's all over you, and won't take no for an answer!" He reached out and grabbed her upper arms tightly, and stared directly into her beautiful, startled blue eyes. "And don't you dare stand here and tell me you don't feel this thing happening between us too," he growled.

Charlie could feel her heart pounding so hard, she was sure Murdock must be able to hear it. A spark of instinct told her to run, but she found her feet rooted to the ground. She struggled to hold Murdock's heated gaze, but faltered moments later, afraid he would read the truth on blatant display in her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied coolly, her eyes darting back and forth, looking anywhere but at him. "There is no 'thing' between us, Murdock."

Murdock's initial reaction to her harsh denial was the winded feeling of being punched in the gut without warning. Still, at his core, he knew she was lying. He removed one hand from her arm, and moved it to grip her chin with his thumb and forefinger, before twisting her face none too gently back to his own, forcing her to look directly into his eyes once more. "Say it again, Charlie," he commanded in a low rumble. "Say you feel nothing."

Now staring back at him again, unable to look anywhere but the depths of his eyes, Charlie felt suddenly naked, exposed. Under his searing gaze, she felt like all her barriers and facades had been stripped away, and his eyes told her that he saw through all of it, straight to the truth she was trying desperately to hide. Stubborn to the end, however, Charlie strained with her last reserve of will to maintain unbroken eye contact with him. Ultimately, however, she failed, her stare wavering several times as she lied and said, "There's nothing, Murdock."

Murdock felt a tiny shiver of victory in his heart, seeing now with unfettered clarity the false nature of her words. "Is that so…" he said in a voice that had now dropped to a deeper timbre.

Charlie felt her heart flip-flop as she desperately began to retort, "Well, of course that's so! I-"

Before she could finish her sentence, however, Murdock yanked him to her and hungrily crushed his lips against her own. He wrapped his arms around her, sliding one hand to a spot between her shoulder blades, and the other to the small of her back. Both hands clutched and caressed as he brought her body flush with his. He moved one hand up to cup the elegant curve of her neck, applying pressure to the back of it as he continued to devour her mouth.

Charlie's own response was immediate, invoking mild surprise within her. Her head spun as she reacquainted herself with Murdock's taste. Her passion had flared to life at the first touch of his lips, and she could no longer remember why she had been fighting this.

Murdock thrust his tongue into her mouth, feverishly entangling it with hers; he nibbled on her lower lip, twisting his head to delve deeper into her intoxicating taste. One of his hands travelled down her back to cup her backside, pulling her body up slightly, and guiding it to fit even more intimately against his own. He had never wanted a woman so badly in his whole life; his every sense was full of her.

He broke the kiss momentarily, gripping her arms again and setting her back from him slightly as he looked down into her face. Her eyes remained closed for a few seconds after the kiss ended. She was flushed, breathing heavily through slightly parted lips, which were now swollen as a result of the intensity of his kiss. Tousled tendrils of auburn hair skimmed both sides of her face. "You telling me you don't feel this?" Murdock demanded huskily, his brain trying to regain function once again, now that he had proven his point.

His intention had been to kiss her and by doing so, force her to admit the truth about her feelings for him. Now, however, he realized the flaw in his plan was his failure to take into account how quickly Charlie destroyed his control. Watching Charlie's breath come in sharp gasps, and staring at those parted lips, it required every ounce of strength he had to resist hauling her back into his arms. He took a small step backwards, deciding he needed to put space between himself and Charlie, as he found her proximity alone was thoroughly dismantling his will power. Without thinking, he reached out and gently brushed an errant strand of hair from her face.

With something very nearly like a sigh, Charlie finally opened her eyes. Her heart was racing, and every part of her felt warm. Her knees felt a little unsteady, her muscles were now gelatinous. Murdock's kiss had evoked in her a response far beyond lust; she felt possessed by him. From the very second the kiss had begun, an overpowering anticipation had begun to mount, and now she felt as though time might not move forward if that anticipation went unrealized. Murdock was still staring down at her, waiting for an answer to a question she was vaguely aware he had asked, but her mind had been too fuzzy to absorb.

Murdock tilted his head to one side, growing impatient as he waited for a response. Fleetingly, his confidence in her desire for him faltered just a little. "Charlie," he began slowly, his voice low. "Are you telling me you feel nothing?"

Charlie returned his gaze, her stubborn desire to constantly be right completely vanishing when her eyes met his. "Shut up," she muttered, grabbing the fabric of Murdock's t-shirt where it lay across his chest, clutching it in two fists and forcefully yanking him to her, sealing her lips once more with his.

Murdock found himself completely frozen for a moment, hovering between total shock and hysterical laughter. Both extremes evaporated in a split-second though as he found his lips reunited with Charlie's, her tongue aggressively exploring his mouth. Caving in to the desire he could no longer contain, he returned her kiss full force, pushing against her as he wound his arms around her, eliminating all space beneath them.

Charlie felt the wall connect with her back, and she relished in the way it braced her in a manner that allowed Murdock to push against her even harder. She buried her fingers in his hair. She arched her back in pleasure, simultaneously revelling in the added sensation of her breasts rubbing against Murdock's chest. She desperately wanted to feel his skin against her own, and untangled a hand from his hair, reaching down to tug his shirt impatiently upwards.

Murdock quickly latched on to her hand and stilled its frantic pull. He brought it up against the wall above her head, lacing his fingers with hers and holding it there firmly. He dragged his lips from hers and navigated his way to her ear lobe. He nibbled at it before gently sucking the lobe, grazing it lightly with his teeth while Charlie moaned and squirmed beneath his grasp. The hand he kept firmly against the wall tried several times to break free and clutch at him, but he refused to allow it free reign as he felt her need growing.

Charlie's blood was on fire, and she found herself grinding her hips in slow circles against Murdock in an attempt to relieve some of the desire that was completely overwhelming her. The fact that Murdock was keeping her right hand pinned was driving her crazy, allowing him complete control over her pleasure. Her free hand was still twisting wildly in his hair. As he continued to suckle and kiss her earlobe, she took the only control she had and tugged at his hair, afraid that if he didn't stop, she might explode. He responded by grabbing that hand and dragging it to join its mate, fleetingly releasing the hand he already held captive, just long enough to clasp both wrists in one wide grasp, then pressing both hands firmly against the wall. He began to move his mouth from Charlie's ear, forging a path down her neck with kisses.

Beneath his lips, Charlie tasted of a confounding mix of saltiness and sweetness. Murdock was helpless to keep himself from licking and sucking at her skin, as he made his way with excruciating slowness across her clavicle to the swell of her breasts.

When he finally reached the low neckline of her shirt, Murdock could no longer continue his exploration of her unless he removed her shirt. With Charlie writhing madly, he at last released her hands, and a split-second later, Charlie was grabbing for his shirt, and yanked it heedlessly up his body and over his head, while he returned the movement with equal haste. The action required that they both break their passionate embrace for a moment, and they found themselves looking into one another's eyes, connecting on a very intimate level. Charlie was panting and looking entirely ravished, her cheeks pink, her hair wild. Murdock felt a tenderness towards her that he had never experienced with another woman. Both had twin looks of surprise at how quickly their respective desires had exploded, and both had enough heat in their eyes to melt glass.

Suddenly, Murdock realized that what was currently happening was the result of his need to prove a point with Charlie. In the span of ten seconds, an unwelcome concern arose, as it occurred to him that Charlie could very well deeply regret it if they wound up consummating their relationship. Once she determined that Murdock had initiated this heated exchange in order to, in essence, say 'I told you so,' he was sure she would, in all likelihood, deeply resent him for allowing things to go so far. At the very least, Charlie would necessarily begin to question his motives behind starting the storm they stood in the midst of at this moment; he hated to think of her eventually wondering if this whole physical exchange had merely been his way to win an argument or soothe some wounded pride of his.

As these doubts flashed rapid-fire through his head, Charlie appeared blissfully unaware of the hint of worry that had entered his eyes. With Murdock's arms around her, she lifted both legs and wound them around his hips, his obvious desire pressing into the most intimate part of her. She moaned and sought out his lips once again, grabbing his head with both hands, and drawing his lips back to her own. She kissed Murdock with wild abandon, a delicious ache developing between her legs.

The feel of Charlie rubbing against him overran his concerns for some minutes. Both hands cupped her plump derriere, lifting her and settling her fully upon his engorged manhood. He crushed her to him, using the wall to press his whole body against her own, fitting her form completely to his. Unable to resist, Murdock reached behind Charlie and deftly unhooked her bra, guiding it off one arm, then the other, and flinging it across the room. He lowered his head and took one of Charlie's breasts into his mouth. He heard Charlie gasp with surprise before she clutched his head almost automatically. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, while bringing a hand to her other breast and rolling its nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

Feeling a pleasure so intense that she was nearly delirious, Charlie mumbled, "Oh my God, Murdock… Murdock, oh my God…" Charlie took her hands from Murdock's shoulders and slid them to his chest, delighting in the silky, fuzzy feel of the patch of hair in the middle of his chest. From there, Charlie's fingers continued their downward trip, until she reached Murdock's belt and fumbled to undo it before moving on to the button and zipper fastening his khaki pants.

Before Murdock knew what was happening, his pants were on the floor. A sudden awareness hit him like lightning: he knew he had let things go much too far. He stilled his lips and straightened, allowing himself one final moment of luxury by bracing himself against the wall with one hand and resting his head on Charlie's shoulder. Eyes closed, he breathed heavily as he tried to slow his heartbeat.

"Murdock?" Charlie's voice was soft and painted with confusion.

Murdock drew a deep breath and stood to his full height. He reluctantly unwound her legs from around his hips and set her gently back down on to the floor. Taking a small step backwards, he reached out and caressed her cheek lovingly. Charlie was searching his eyes questioningly, and he could clearly see a whisper of hurt creeping across her face. "Damnit, Charlie, I… this isn't right" His voice was barely audible, and he hated himself for the pained look now apparent on her face.

Charlie shook her head slightly, murmuring, "I don't… what's… I don't understand." She furrowed her brow, completely at a loss. "Feels pretty right to me."

"I…" Murdock began, then dropped the hand cupping her cheek, letting it fall limply to his side. "Look," he finally said sadly, "we shouldn't do this right now." He opened his mouth to explain himself further, but couldn't seem to find the words. He instead grew silent, staring into the most beautiful sapphire eyes he had ever seen, and hating the grief he saw there. He bent and lifted his pants back up, fastening them even as he continued to move away. "I'm going to take up watch outside for a while," he offered weakly. "You should get some sleep." He ran his fingers through his hair and looked around for his hastily discarded t-shirt. Spotting it balled up at the foot of the bed, he quickly donned it, and moved towards the room's door. He cast one last longing look at Charlie, who hadn't moved from the spot he had left her in, and he instantly felt branded by her stunned look. He hesitated, wanting to offer her some words of comfort, or an explanation, but all speech died in his mouth. He turned back to the door, and slipped out of the room.

*****

As Charlie watched the door close behind Murdock, a thousand different things to call after him popped into her head. None of these things escaped from her lips. A minute or two ticked by before her senses returned to full working capacity. When they did, she looked down at herself, and suddenly felt uncharacteristically embarrassed by her half-naked state. She remained in her position against the wall, and cast her eyes around the room for her bra, but had no success spotting it. She did, however, spy her t-shirt rumpled in a puddle of fabric on the bed. With a slight unsteadiness, she padded over to it, slipping it back over her head. She flopped without grace onto the lumpy mattress.

With her head buried in a pillow, Charlie found her brain replaying the steamy scene she had just enacted with Murdock over and over. She desperately tried to distract her mind with absolutely anything else she could think of, but it became almost immediately obvious that any effort to do so was futile. The charged encounter had made it abundantly clear to her that she could no longer deny her developing emotions and attraction for Murdock. While she wasn't sure she was ready to share this revelation with Murdock, she had moved far beyond the point of lying to herself about it.

Charlie flipped over onto her back as an aggravated sigh slipped from her lips. She stared at the nicotine-stained ceiling, feeling incredibly annoyed, not with Murdock, but with herself. _How in God's name did I become one of "those" women?_ She chastised herself. For Charlie, "those" women were women who became so engrossed in a man, the pursuit of or relationship with that man became their entire lives. "Those" women scrutinized and dissected every, excruciating detail of their time with this man; they tortured their friends with endless diatribes about how wonderful he was, or demanded that their friends help them analyze every nuance of this man's behaviour and words; in short, for Charlie, "those" women were women whose lives revolved around a man at the expense of everyone and everything around them. For years, Charlie had unilaterally hated any woman she thought fit such a description. She had always seen it as degrading to the female species as a whole. It was therefore with a great deal of self-loathing that Charlie realized that she herself had become exactly the kind of woman she despised.

Indeed, since she had met him, Charlie recognized that she had spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about Murdock. She had agonized over labelling her feelings for him, and spent countless hours wondering how he felt about her. Her thoughts drifted back to an outlandish theory she and a college roommate had come up with during their years in school. Charlie and her roommate had decided that the best man to have a relationship with was not a smart man, or a wealthy man, a gorgeous man, or a sweet and loving man; the best man to have a relationship with was a man who would live in your closet. The two girls had proposed that if every woman had a man who lived in their closet, she could take him out for physical fun whenever the need struck her, and then just pop him back in the closet until the need arose again. This way, Charlie and her roommate had postulated, a woman could have her physical needs met, and never have to talk about feelings, or play mind games, or meet his parents, or stroke his delicate male ego, and most importantly, with a man in the closet, there was no baggage created, and none to deal with. Charlie absently wondered with a smile if Murdock might wish to take up residence in a spacious walk-in closet, but quickly admitted to herself there were an awful lot of other things about Murdock that she liked too much to stash behind a pile of sweaters.

After a few more minutes of musing peppered with self-loathing, Charlie ultimately muttered, "the hell with this," under her breath. There was a very simple solution to avoiding the fate of becoming one of "those" women: she would just have a frank, honest discussion with Murdock about things. If she got to the bottom of this once and for all, she could stop wasting time guessing at what was going on in his head. Some small, insecure part of her reminded her that Murdock could flat out reject her, and maybe this conversation would reveal a reality Charlie didn't want to know; although Murdock was clearly physically attracted to her, there were plenty of things she didn't know about him, and maybe he just wasn't a relationship guy… _Wait, relationship?_ Charlie caught herself. _Who said anything about a relationship?_ Charlie tried to push the notion out of her consciousness, though deep down, just the thought of such a possibility set off show tunes in her head.

Having come to this resolution, Charlie's initial intent had been to spend a few minutes considering what it was she wanted to know from Murdock, and make a mental outline of how she wanted the conversation to go, and then join him outside immediately to initiate the discussion. Now that she was lying down, however, she suddenly felt overwhelmingly exhausted, and her limbs felt like they were made of stone. She had barely slept since she had been told of Fenlon's death, and even when she had managed to drift off, her sleep had been fitful and rife with terrifying images.

She stretched cat-like as she yawned widely. Her sleep-deprived brain told her that whatever she wanted to talk to Murdock about would still be there in the morning. For now, Charlie felt like she might not be able to stay awake if her life depended on it, and the prospect of a decent night of sleep, even on the motel's mattress with its endless broken springs, sounded positively heavenly. Unwilling to continue her fight against her sleep-hungry body for tonight, she lifted herself up on one elbow and reached beneath herself to pull back the bedding, then slipped under the blankets and snuggled into them with a sigh. She brought her hands under the sheet and deftly unbuttoned her jeans, sliding them off with a little leg-wiggling until she was able to pull them from her body and bring them above the sheets to throw heedlessly across the room.

Now thoroughly comfortable, Charlie felt herself beginning to drift into sleep almost instantly. As her consciousness slowly shut down for some rest, the last thing she thought of before falling asleep was her conviction that tomorrow, come hell or high water, she would talk to Murdock about what exactly was going on between the two of them.

*****

Around a corner of the building, next to a dumpster, Murdock discovered a rusty metal folding chair reminiscent of those found in elementary school auditoriums, and he dragged the uncomfortable cast-off to a spot against the wall outside he and Charlie's room, just to the left of the door.

Murdock's plan to keep Charlie protected at the motel had never actually entailed taking up sentry outside the door; he had planned on sleeping in the room, anticipating a night on the floor, and had felt confident that he would be just as effective in his guard duty from inside the room as he would be outside of it.

His plan had quickly changed following their passionate exchange, however, when he had realized that there was no way he could be in close quarters with Charlie tonight without absolutely ravaging her. In fact, even with a door between himself and Charlie, the cool night air, and an unobstructed view of a parking lot so dirty and full of garbage that even rats probably ran away from it, he was still finding it incredibly difficult to cool his ignited libido.

As the minutes ticked by, Murdock recognized it was going to take quite a while to quiet his lust; he stood with a grumble and trudged in the direction of the van to see if he could track down some reading material. He found a battered copy of _Heart of Darkness_ stashed beneath a ratty old fire blanket; Murdock took both items back to his post, figuring he'd use the blanket for his bed on the floor.

Two hours later, Murdock was finding it futile to try staying awake any longer, as his head began to nod and his eyes began to droop. Since he had moved outdoors, he hadn't heard any noise from the room, and the only light shining through the window was the weak illumination of a dim bedside lamp. Murdock felt confident that Charlie had to be asleep by now, and decided heading inside was probably, finally, a safe bet.

He left the chair where it was and stepped to the door. He turned the knob slowly before he carefully eased open the door to the room, not wanting to wake Charlie if she was asleep. Entering the room, he saw that Charlie was indeed in the bed, apparently sleeping, and he felt a trickle of relief run through him. He closed the door softly.

As Murdock moved towards his duffel bag some paces from him on the floor, he slowly became aware of a soft sound coming from the bed. He frowned, gingerly stepping towards the source of the noise. He realized, as he got closer, that Charlie was whimpering in her sleep, and as he brought himself nearer, Murdock could also see tears running down Charlie's face; the sight made his heart positively ache. Without conscious thought, Murdock sat on the edge of the bed and placed a gentle hand on Charlie's shoulder where it peeked from beneath the blankets. He gave her a mild shake and murmured, "Charlie… Charlie, honey, wake up… Charlie, you're dreaming."

It took a little more shaking, but Charlie's eyes finally began to ease open. There was a clear moment of confusion in her eyes as she awoke in the foreign room, and her eyes roved slowly across her surroundings, finally settling on the familiar face in front of her. "Murdock?" she asked, brows furrowed. "What…?"

"Welcome back, sweetheart," Murdock offered with a reassuring smile that put Charlie almost instantly at ease. Murdock reached out and tucked an errant hair behind her ear, saying, "You were crying. Do you remember what you were dreaming about?"

Charlie's eyes rolled upwards as she struggled to remember. "It was Fenlon," she said sadly when she managed to recollect, her gaze returning to Murdock. "I was dreaming about he and I when we were kids." Even thinking about it now caused her eyes to grow watery.

Murdock reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry," he told her, his face awash with genuine sympathy. "Why don't you try to get some more sleep, hon; we've got another long day ahead of us tomorrow. And I'll be right next to you on the floor if you need anything, okay?" He gestured towards a spot on the dingy carpet as he spoke.

"Murdock…" Charlie began, then paused, unsure of what she wanted to say next. Such concern for her own well-being was completely new to her. Rick had certainly never exhibited anything even close to compassion, and her father had long been unable to as he wallowed in the depths of his depression. Indeed, Charlie's self-reliance had become a point of pride for her, and past experience had conditioned her to believe that she would always be safer if she counted only on herself. Murdock, however, consistently ran roughshod over these beliefs; he was reliable, and caring, and made her feel like maybe she did not have to live as though it was her against the world. Knowing Murdock was in her corner made her feel as though she was largely invincible.

Charlie shook her head to return from her distant thoughts to the situation at hand. She discovered Murdock was looking down at her with an intensity that took her breath away.

"Yes?" he inquired, looking a little perplexed.

Charlie sighed, "Don't read anything into this," she warned firmly. "But… can you just sleep in the bed with me tonight?" Even as the words passed her lips, her voice sounded foreign to her own ears. "Not for any sexual reason," she fired out hurriedly. "I just… think I might have trouble sleeping otherwise."

Murdock tried very hard to stifle a grin, and came close to succeeding. "Sure," he said, hoping he didn't sound too eager. "Just let me change." He rose from the bed, but not before he absently cupped Charlie's cheek for a moment or two.

Grabbing his duffel bag again, he strode casually to the bathroom, and re-emerged without a shirt, wearing a baggy pair of navy blue sweat pants. Dropping the bag on the floor once more, he made a quick stop by the alarm clock, and set it to eight a.m. He checked his watch out of habit before taking it off to rest on the bedside table, and frowned slightly as he calculated how little sleep they'd be travelling on tomorrow.

Murdock lifted the blankets in a way that he hoped looked casual, feeling a tiny thrill when he noticed Charlie's bare legs. He settled himself into the bed, and there was an awkward moment as they both lay with their arms tightly at their sides, staring up at the ceiling from their matching, stiff positions on their backs. Neither seemed willing to jump over the chasm between them in the bed, and for a fleeting second, both felt like strangers.

It was Murdock who finally sighed and grumbled, "Alright, get over here." He turned and stretched his open arms towards Charlie as he shifted his gaze to her lovely face.

She smiled approvingly, and moved closer to him as his arms encircled her and drew her to him. They lay quietly, locked together. Murdock could feel tension evaporate from Charlie's body, and he let out a contented breath as his head sank into the pillow. He looked down at the woman he held, and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, Charlie," he murmured.

Charlie smiled a vast and captivating smile. "''Night, Murdock," she replied on the edge of a whisper. Nuzzling into Murdock's chest, feeling very safe and overwhelmingly content, Charlie finally drifted off into a deep, undisturbed sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

When Charlie resurfaced from sleep the next morning, she felt thoroughly rejuvenated, in spite of the fact that she had only gained a handful of hours of sleep; for the first time in a long time, she had actually slept deeply without interruption, and the effect was thoroughly renewing. It took a few moments, but once she was wide awake, she was mildly surprised to discover that it was not the alarm that had awoken her, but a familiar voice. Glancing at the side of the bed where Murdock had slept, she found it was empty. Charlie sat up and rubbed briefly at her eyes, and was greeted with the sight of Murdock lounging in the room's tattered chair, still sporting the bare chest and blue sweatpants he had slept in. Seeing her sit up, Murdock flashed her a dazzling smile; she saw that he was on the phone.

"Oh, hang on gentlemen, she's awake," Murdock said into the receiver. He moved the phone away from his ear a little and addressed Charlie. "Morning!" he said cheerily. "The guys are just about to update me on the recon work I asked them to do."

Charlie stretched to relieve the stiffness in her body. "Didn't you tell them to call you in the van?" she asked, suddenly aware of the contradiction.

"Yep. But I called them from the room before they called me in the van, because I wanted to have the conversation with you nearby. Partly in case we need you to answer any questions, and partly so I can make sure you're as in the loop as I am, thus avoiding you kicking my butt."

"Well done," Charlie said grinning wryly, before punctuating her response with a yawn.

Murdock returned the grin, and began to move the phone back to his ear. He paused for a moment however, and nodded towards a spot on the nightstand. Charlie followed his gaze and landed upon a cup of coffee so hot there was still steam escaping from beneath the lid. "Picked it up for you ten minutes ago when I went to get a newspaper. Enjoy."

Charlie was thrilled: there were few things she loved more than the first coffee of the day. She grabbed the cup and popped the lid, peering inside. "How'd you know I take my coffee black?" she asked curiously.

Murdock shrugged. "I remembered that's how you were drinking it when we talked on your first morning in the V.A. yard."

Charlie was impressed.

"Crazyman, you think we got all day to wait around while you jibber-jabber?" barked a voice on the other end of the phone.

Murdock chuckled. His teammates were all on the phone again, the same way they had been yesterday. "Take it easy, B.A."

"Yeah, B.A.," reproached Face. "If you saw how gorgeous his roommate was, you'd jibber-jabber at her and ignore us too."

"Alright gentlemen," Hannibal said with a hint of impatience, attempting to move the report along. "Let's tell the Captain what we know. Face?"

"Oh, right. Well, first off, I now have to take Sherry to her sister's wedding, thank you very much," Face complained.

"Lieutenant?" Hannibal prodded.

"What? That's important information to know," Face replied defensively. Hannibal shot Face a look of mild exasperation, and Face rushed ahead. "Anyway, the truck is registered to a guy named Trent Smithton. Criminal record as long as my arm. All for violent offences too: assault, battery, domestic disturbance, you name it. He's the definition of career criminal, buddy," Face finished.

"Damn," muttered Murdock. "Hang on." He moved the phone away from his ear again. "You know a guy named Trent Smithton?" he asked Charlie.

"Hmm…" She thought for a minute. "I think it sounds vaguely familiar…" She furrowed her brow, trying to put a face to the name. "It might have been one of Rick's suppliers, but I can't say for sure," Charlie concluded.

Murdock nodded to her and returned the receiver to his ear. "Charlie thinks the name is familiar, but she can't say for sure," he relayed. "You got a description?"

The sound of papers shuffling could be heard in the background. "Um… yeah, here we go," Face responded. "Black hair, brown eyes, six foot two…"

"Well, that narrows it down to about six zillion people," Murdock grumbled.

"That would be true if that was all we knew," Face conceded, "but there's one more thing: he's got a scar straight across his forehead."

"That'll work!" exclaimed Murdock. "You're the master, Faceman!"

"Hey, you're preaching to the choir, buddy," Face informed him, feeling very proud of himself.

"How about you, B.A., old buddy, old pal?" Murdock asked.

"I ain't your buddy, fool," B. A. was quick to correct him. "But Face did manage to find out where Rick claimed he would be staying now that he's out on bail. Place is in a real tough part of town, but I got a bug in there."

"**You **got a bug in?" Face cried, incensed. "I was the one who got us in as electricity meter readers!"

"Yeah, but ain't nobody could have done nothing without B.A. Baracus," B.A. proclaimed.

In the motel room, Murdock smiled. "God, I miss you guys," he told them.

"Yeah, well, I ain't missing you," B.A. retorted.

Hannibal interjected once again. "Gentlemen?"

"Sorry Hannibal," B.A. apologized. "So when Rick was released, it was into the custody of some dude, and that dude was in the house, but that's it. Bug picked up nothing about where Rick is specifically."

"Great." Murdock frowned.

"Oh, it gets worse," Face said ominously. "The guy in the house called someone last night, and we heard him tell whoever he was on the phone with that Rick had plans to 'take care of some business'."

"This is starting to look pretty bad, Captain," Hannibal advised. "I don't have a whole lot of doubt about what the 'business' Rick's planning to take care of is."

The team heard Murdock breathe a sigh of frustration on his end. "I know, Hannibal, I don't have much doubt about it either. Any thoughts on what my next step should be?"

"I think you mean **our** next step, Captain. You're in danger, and that means we're in this with you," Hannibal corrected him.

Murdock felt a wave of gratitude. "Thanks, Hannibal."

"So, what now, Hannibal?" Face asked. "You got a plan?"

"'Course he got a plan," B.A. countered. "What's the plan, Hannibal?"

Murdock could almost see Hannibal grinning into the phone.

"Oh, I've got a plan," Hannibal assured the men. "Captain, I think our best shot is to hold off until you and your lady get back here, and we'll go after Rick as a team."

"And if trouble shows up before we get back?" Murdock inquired.

"Then we come to you," Hannibal replied.

"I ain't getting on no plane, Hannibal," B.A. warned.

"Now B.A., no one said anything about a plane," Hannibal said smoothly. "Murdock won't even be here to fly us."

"You better not put me on a plane, Hannibal. I told you, I'm sick of you guys lying to me." B.A.'s tone was decidedly threatening.

Murdock couldn't resist pushing B.A.'s buttons. "We only lie because we love you, Big Guy."

"Shut up, fool. I ain't gonna stand for no lying."

"Alright B.A., you've made your point," Hannibal soothed. "When are you back, Captain?"

"Day after tomorrow," Murdock informed the Colonel.

"Right. Come to Face's place when you're back then, and we'll fix this problem."

"Thanks, Hannibal," Murdock said once more. "See you then."

"Let us know if anything changes," Hannibal advised him.

"Will do," Murdock confirmed. "See you soon, guys."

"See you, buddy!" Face said jovially, and both parties hung up their respective phones.

Murdock replaced the phone in the cradle and turned to Charlie, who was sporting a quizzical look. "I'll fill you in on the road," Murdock offered.

"You better," Charlie said warily.

Murdock pointed at himself. "Hey, look at this face," he told her with a grin. "This is an honest face, my dear."

Charlie couldn't help giggling at the goofy look he had adopted. "I guess we'll see about that," she tossed back.

Murdock rose from the abominable chair and moved towards his duffel bag. "Alright, let's get ready and skedaddle, so we can get this show on the road!"

Charlie nodded with a smile, climbed out of bed, and headed for the shower.

*****

Back on the road, the hours spent in the van as it raced across the country were proving to be just as enjoyable during the second leg of Charlie and Murdock's trip as they had been the day before. True to his word, Murdock had related the details of his conversation with the A-Team as soon as the van was back on the highway. The idea that Rick was missing in action made Charlie incredibly uneasy. Her fear, however, was tempered greatly by the safety she felt in Murdock's presence. She knew without question that Murdock would do anything and everything in his power to protect her from harm.

Charlie also discovered that, as is often the case with bedtime resolutions, she just could not summon the grit to fulfill the promise she had made to herself the night before; the determination to grill Murdock on the previous night's fiery exchange had completely dissolved in the clear light of day. She convinced herself that it would be better to discuss it with him later, rationalizing that what she needed to do today was focus on the funeral she and Murdock were speeding towards.

Hours later, Charlie began to spot familiar sights from her childhood, and before she knew it, she had arrived back in Great Falls. She could hear the rushing waters of the Missouri river before she could see them, and the sound alone triggered nostalgia for the life she had led as a little girl; now, that life felt like it had been lived a million years ago.

From the driver's seat, Murdock was taking in the scenery in front of him, and admiring the beauty of this city he had never seen before. "Wow, you grew up here?" he asked Charlie. "Because this is one good-looking town."

Charlie nodded. "It's a pretty great place for a kid to grow up," she confirmed. She glanced down at her watch. "Looks like we made pretty good time, Murdock; we've got about two hours until the funeral. That gives us a decent bit of time to get ready."

Murdock offered Charlie a salute. "Ten-four, Captain. You just point me in the right direction."

Complying, Charlie instructed Murdock through a couple of downtown roads, continuing beyond the city's core to a suburban area full of perfectly manicured, lush green lawns, and majestic, ancient trees.

It wasn't long before the van arrived at the intended destination. Murdock swung the van into a driveway Charlie gestured to, and surveyed the house in front of him.

The driveway belonged to a small, unassuming home; the sprawling front lawn was resplendent with several English-style gardens bursting with untamed wild flowers and overgrown shrubs. The house itself was a red-brick bungalow, topped by a black shingled roof with only the slightest of slopes. From the driveway, the living room was clearly visible through two huge floor-to-ceiling windows that together stretched nearly the whole length of the front of the house.

"This your dad's place?" queried Murdock.

"No," Charlie said sadly. "It's Fenlon's."

"So, how are you going to get in?" Murdock asked with curiosity.

"I know where he keeps his spare."

"Okie-doke," Murdock said nodding, turning the van off.

Charlie reached behind her into the back seat and extracted a duffle bag. She and Murdock stepped from the van and spent a few moments stretching stiff limbs and rubbing at sore spots. Charlie then moved towards a shrub near the door of the house, and knelt to turn over a rock, fishing out a key from beneath it. She rose and slipped her unearthed treasure into the door, twisting it until she heard a click. She swung the door wide and stepped into a small foyer as Murdock followed.

"So, the bathroom's just down the hall if you need it, and I'm going to change," Charlie informed Murdock, as she set off down a hallway, bag in hand.

Murdock headed for the bathroom. When he emerged, he found Charlie was still in the bedroom she had disappeared into, so he wandered into the living room to wait.

Dotted around the room were all kinds of framed pictures, and Murdock, curious, began inspecting them. The bond between Charlie and her brother was overwhelmingly evident as photograph after photograph showed her and Fenlon hugging, giggling, smiling at one another conspiratorially, as though they were constantly sharing some private joke. Murdock grinned as he perused photos of Charlie as a little girl, her flaming red hair flashing like a beacon in each photograph, detracting from frilly, pastel dresses she was wearing almost exclusively.

Murdock continued his exploration until he came across a picture of Charlie with three other people who he assumed were her family. He picked up the framed photo for a closer look. Charlie and Fenlon were both fairly young, and behind them stood a tall, striking man with jet black hair, his mouth set in a stern line. Next to the man was a stunning redhead with blue eyes almost identical to Charlie's. The four of them all looked happy and relaxed.

"Murdock, don't look at those embarrassing photos!"

Startled out of his reverie, Murdock returned the family portrait to the place where he had found it, then turned to Charlie. She was wearing a simple black dress with a demure, square neckline. Murdock smiled mischievously. "And here I was hoping you'd be wearing something pink and frilly."

Charlie frowned at Murdock, though her eyes reflected clear amusement. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," she grumbled. "But I bet there are plenty of pictures of you wearing dorky clothes when you were a kid."

Murdock chuckled. "Well, sure there are, but I've got the good sense not to leave them lying around," he told her.

Charlie rolled her eyes, though she grinned. "At any rate, I need a hand – can you zip me up?" she asked, turning her back to Murdock.

The V created on Charlie's back by the unfastened fabric revealed an enticing expanse of smooth, creamy skin. "Sure," Murdock replied, trying to sound nonchalant as he moved to grant Charlie's request. He grasped the zipper and began pulling it upwards at a leisurely pace, allowing his knuckles to skim Charlie's skin while he slid the zipper all the way to the top of the dress. "All set."

Her heartbeat having quickened slightly, Charlie pivoted to face Murdock again. "We should probably find you something to wear too," Charlie began abruptly, trying to slow her pulse by focusing on something innocuous. Her eyes travelled the length of Murdock's form. "You look about Fenlon's size. You can go grab a suit from his bedroom closet down the hall."

Murdock's face registered surprise. "You want me at the funeral with you?" he asked. "I was just going to wait in the van until things were finished."

"Oh." Charlie's voice held obvious disappointment. "Yeah, I guess it would be kind of a hassle for you, so-"

Murdock shook his head and cut her off. "No, it's not that," he was quick to assure her. "I just figured it was a family moment, and I assumed you'd want to be with them without me hanging around."

Charlie's snort was decidedly unladylike. "What family? Trust me, my dad will be too wrapped up in his own grief to offer me any support, and I'd be amazed if my mom showed her face. Really," she said, her eyes pleading, "I'd like to have at least one person there to support me."

"Well, then count me in," Murdock responded without hesitation. "Guess that means I have to put on a suit then, huh?" He tried to keep his tone light.

Charlie smiled wryly. "Somehow, I don't really see a t-shirt and khakis being funeral attire."

"Nuts," Murdock muttered, adopting a ridiculous, petulant pout.

"Trust me, you'll live."

"Don't be so sure," Murdock countered, then headed off to a room Charlie pointed out to him.

In an effort to combat the looming sadness swiftly growing within her, Charlie busied herself with a trip to the kitchen to see if there was anything to eat, hoping she could scrounge up some food that hadn't spoiled yet.

After a brief search, Charlie turned up some slightly stale bread, a container of peanut butter, and a glass jar full of raspberry jam. She decided PB&J sandwiches would have to do.

She spread the peanut butter and jam liberally over a thick slice of bread, then plopped a second slice on top. She turned to go find Murdock so she could ask if he wanted some, but before she could, Murdock sauntered into the kitchen wearing a black, pinstriped suit, clutching a deep violet tie in one hand. Charlie gestured to the sandwich ingredients in front of her. "Want some?" she asked.

Murdock plopped into one of the kitchen chairs, tugging at the collar of his shirt as he tried to get comfortable; he was finding the effort futile. He tossed the tie he'd been carrying onto the table, and looked at the food Charlie was offering. "Yum, yes please," he confirmed. "Who could turn down such a gourmet meal?"

Charlie rolled her eyes and fixed a second sandwich for Murdock before joining him at the table. There was a comfortable silence as they both ate their sandwiches, lost in their own respective thoughts. In Charlie's case, she was beginning to feel progressively more anxious with each passing moment. Up until this point, the physical distance between herself and the reality of the situation back home had prevented her from fully processing the death of Fenlon; deep down, some part of her refused to believe Fenlon was truly gone. Charlie knew, however, that the funeral would bring the reality of his death crashing down on her, and the mere thought of standing over her brother's coffin made her want to run away and hide.

Desperate to refocus her thoughts on anything but today's sombre occasion, Charlie's eyes landed on the tie Murdock had dropped on the table. "What's wrong with the tie?" she asked.

Murdock shrugged. "Couldn't get it to tie right."

Charlie popped the last bit of sandwich in her mouth, and reached for the tie. "Allow me," she offered, standing. "I used to help Fenlon with his all the time." She circled around behind Murdock. "Collar up," she instructed; Murdock complied. She slipped the tie around his neck and brought each end around to Murdock's front, her arms encircling him. "I could only ever do it from behind," she explained, peering over his shoulder.

Once again, Charlie's proximity sent Murdock's heart racing. He could feel her warm breath on the back of his neck.

Behind him, Charlie felt her pulse speed as well. She concentrated on finishing the task at hand, fighting an overwhelming urge to kiss Murdock. Once the tie was properly knotted, she finally withdrew from Murdock.

Murdock looked down at Charlie's handiwork, then back up at her. "Thanks," he said with a smile.

"Yup," Charlie replied. She picked up both now-empty plates, and carried them to the sink. For a moment she stared blankly out the window above the taps, then turned back to Murdock with a sigh. "Guess we should get going," she told him.

Murdock nodded. "Guess we should."

The pair made their way back to the front door, their pace slowed by a shared dread. Back in the foyer, they each slipped on shoes and jackets wordlessly, then found themselves staring at one another.

Murdock reached out and laid a hand on Charlie's shoulder, deeply saddened by the grief he saw in her eyes. "Are you sure you can do this?" His voice was soft and fraught with concern.

Charlie reached up to her shoulder and laid her hand over Murdock's. "No," she told him. "But we're about to find out."

Almost instinctively, Murdock brought Charlie to him and wrapped his arms around her in a reassuring hug. "I'll be right there with you," he reminded her as he stroked the back of her hair.

"I know." Charlie took a deep breath and stepped back from Murdock. "Let's go," she breathed.

*****

The next few hours seemed like a dream to Charlie. Nothing about the funeral felt real, and a survival mechanism kicked in wherein her brain became frozen in a state of disbelief, as though it was absolutely refusing to admit that the coffin Charlie was looking at contained her brother. Throughout the service, Charlie was vaguely aware of Murdock's supportive arm around her, and thought absently about how glad she was that he had agreed to come with her.

Murdock remained on high alert throughout the mournful gathering, constantly on the lookout for a man with a scar across his forehead.

As predicted, Charlie's mother failed to appear, and her father merely nodded in acknowledgement when he saw her arrive at the service; his face was vacant. It was abundantly clear to Murdock now why Charlie had needed him to accompany her. He realized that, like himself, Charlie had also lost both parents; he felt both heartbroken and furious about the situation.

When the service was over, Charlie looked for and spotted her father, and began to make her way towards him, with Murdock following suit. She was stopped several times along the way by people expressing their condolences to her. Charlie responded with the expected niceties, though she found no comfort in the words of these people.

When she was finally face-to-face with her father, Charlie was struck by how incredibly old her father now looked. His skin was a startling pale, and his eyes were ringed with dark smudges. He looked unbelievably tired. "Hi, Dad," she began. She stepped closer to her father and hugged him. Instead of returning the hug, however, her father's arms remained limply by his sides

"Hi, Charlotte," her father replied after a long pause. His voice was weary.

Charlie gestured towards Murdock. "Dad, this is HM," she said.

Murdock offered a hand to the man in front of him. "Hi, Mr. Burchell."

Charlie's father stared at Murdock's outstretched hand, as though momentarily confused about what he was supposed to do with it. Then he slowly brought up his hand and silently shook Murdock's, saying nothing.

Charlie's father turned back to face her again. "He was such a good boy, wasn't he?" he asked no one in particular. "He was just such a good boy. My son was such a good boy. Such a good boy." His ramblings clearly sought no response.

"Yes, he was, Dad," Charlie told him anyway. "Dad, I thought maybe HM and I could stay with you tonight." Her eyes searched her father's. "I think you and I need to spend time as a family."

"That's not necessary," Charlie's father returned, staring straight ahead with a glassy look in his eyes.

"Dad, I want to."

Charlie's father had his gaze set on some invisible fixed point along the horizon. "I'd rather you didn't," he eventually responded, never looking at her. "I think I need some time alone." His voice was cool and detached.

Charlie felt warm tears spring to her eyes, and suddenly wanted to be as far away from her father as possible. She stared at him for some time. Finally, she leaned forward and kissed her father on the cheek. "Take care, Dad," she said hollowly before she turned and walked away from him.

Charlie's feet carried her to her brother's coffin, as Murdock looked on. He hung back and waited, giving Charlie her privacy. He watched from a distance as Charlie leaned down and spoke to her brother. His chest ached as he saw her place her palm on the coffin and murmur parting words and expressions of love. She began to sob as she did so, and Murdock fought the urge to rush towards her and hold her. He had buried enough fellow soldiers to know that embracing tears and sadness were a necessary and important part of the grieving process.

After a time, Murdock saw Charlie kiss her fingertips and press them to the coffin. Her hand lingered there for a long time. He saw her shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath, then she turned and walked back to Murdock.

Once in front of Murdock, Charlie looked up at him, and Murdock sucked in a sharp breath at the sheer devastation in her eyes. This time, he gave in to the need to hold her and gathered her to him. They stood locked in the pose for a long time. Eventually though, Charlie finally pulled back and lifted her eyes to Murdock's. "Let's get out of here," she whispered.

Murdock nodded and slipped his hand into hers. Turning, they left the funeral parlour. Neither looked back.

*****

Murdock and Charlie both agreed that they were far too drained to even consider getting in the van and starting the long drive back to L.A. They made the mutual decision to spend the night back at Fenlon's home, and leave the next morning.

In contrast to most of their time spent in the van, the ride back from the funeral parlour was a solemn and silent one. Several times, Murdock turned to offer words of comfort to Charlie, but each time, he changed his mind before speaking. He could not think of a single thing to say to Charlie that didn't sound trite or cliché. He felt helpless, wanting whole-heartedly to ease Charlie's suffering, but recognizing that there was little he could do to achieve his goal.

Just before they reached the street Fenlon's house was on, Murdock spotted a run-down diner. "Hungry?" he asked, turning to look at Charlie.

"Not really," she answered, shaking her head. Her voice was distant.

Murdock frowned. "You will be, trust me," he told her, pulling into the diner's parking lot. He parked the van and twisted towards Charlie. "I'll be right back, okay?" he said, placing a gentle hand on her leg.

Charlie stared blankly out the window. "Right," she mumbled, absently.

Murdock slid from the van and returned a few minutes later with a grease-stained paper bag, which he tossed haphazardly into the back seat. Charlie said nothing.

Less than five minutes later, Murdock pulled into Fenlon's driveway. Once inside, Charlie removed her coat and dropped it heedlessly onto the floor where she stood. "I'm going to lay down for a while," she told Murdock, her voice just barely audible. She disappeared down the hall.

Unsure of what to do next, Murdock decided his first order of business was to get out of his suit and tie, and back into the comfortable embrace of his khakis and a t-shirt. He retrieved his duffel bag and stepped into the bathroom, where he disrobed in record time, thrilled to be rid of the restrictive formal wear.

Murdock emerged from the bathroom feeling slightly renewed, and collected the bag of food from a small table in the foyer where he had left it. He proceeded down the hallway, food in hand, and walked to the room Charlie had gone into. Even from halfway down the hall, Murdock could hear Charlie sobbing and sniffling.

He arrived at the room to discover Charlie sprawled on top of all the bed linens, her hands over her eyes.

"Oh, Charlie," Murdock murmured soothingly. He dropped the food on a nearby chair and moved to the side of the bed. Without saying a word, he joined Charlie on the mattress, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her to him. He continued to remain silent as Charlie sobbed even harder. She rolled to face him and buried her head in his chest, her body quivering and wracked with grief.

It was nearly an hour later when Charlie's crying began to subside, slowing to whimpering, and finally to mere sniffling. Murdock felt her take several deep breaths, and she brought her hands up to wipe at her eyes. She lifted her head from Murdock's chest and looked up into the warmth of his eyes. "I think I ruined your shirt," she told him apologetically, as she took her eyes from his and surveyed the massive wet spot he now sported.

Murdock smiled and wiggled his eyebrows. "We'll work something out."

Charlie rolled over onto her back, and tried very hard to look annoyed. She was entirely unsuccessful. Suddenly, her stomach let out an unearthly gurgle. Charlie gasped and brought a hand to her midsection, as though it might somehow silence the sound. Her face flushed red with embarrassment.

Murdock laughed heartily. "I told you!" he reminded her in a sing-song voice. He sat up and jumped off the bed, grabbing the nearby bag of burgers and flopping back down into his spot next to Charlie. He fished out two aluminium-wrapped burgers and tossed the bag aside as he passed one to Charlie.

She propped herself up on a pair of pillows and pulled herself into a seated position, sinking into the soft support behind her. She took the burger Murdock offered and wrinkled her nose a little. "It's stone cold!"

"Yeah, that'll happen when you leave them lying around for an hour after you buy them," he told her. He tore zealously at the foil around his food, and eagerly bit off nearly half of the burger. He turned to Charlie with his mouth full and said something that sounded like, "ill goo."

Charlie giggled. "What?!"

Murdock chewed for a minute, then swallowed and cleared his throat. "I said, 'still good'. Even cold, these burgers are still good."

Charlie smiled and nodded, considering the food in front of her. She took a tentative bite, then proclaimed, "I don't believe it, they actually **are** still tasty!" She took another bite, and did so with such enthusiasm that the burger left behind a dollop of ketchup just above her lips.

"You're supposed to eat the meal, not wear it," Murdock said with amusement dancing in his eyes.

Charlie quickly brought her hand to her face and swiped it across. "Gone?"

Murdock tried not to laugh. "No ma'am, still there. Maybe you should just leave it; it's kind of a good look for you."

"Oh, be quiet," Charlie huffed, running her fingertips over her face again, then turning her eyes to Murdock's. "Better?"

Murdock snickered. "Nope," he replied, setting down his meal on a bedside table. "Here, allow me." He brought his hand to her face, and swiped the ketchup away with his thumb. Suddenly, he found himself unwilling to retract his hand. Instead, he ran his thumb gently over Charlie's bottom lip, staring intently into her eyes. Both of their smiles vanished, and Murdock's eyes grew dark with desire. He moved towards her with excruciating slowness, his eyes searching hers to gauge her reaction. Seeing no resistance, he kissed her gently, sliding one hand to the back of her neck, and the other around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

Charlie felt a little light-headed at the sensation the tender kiss was creating within her. Her burger slipped from her hand to the floor as she reciprocated the kiss. She had never felt so cherished by any man, and didn't hesitate to give herself over completely.

Within minutes, the kiss had escalated in intensity, growing passionate and hungry. Murdock savoured Charlie's now familiar taste, meeting her tongue with his own, eagerly exploring her mouth as his desire grew at an impossibly rapid rate.

Charlie returned his kiss with equal need, every part of her aflame. She clutched Murdock's head as she slid off the pillows to lay flat on the bed, bringing him with her.

Never breaking the kiss, Murdock moved over Charlie, careful to support his weight by leaning on a forearm. She bent one knee and wrapped a leg over him, running one hand through his soft, wispy hair, and the other hand down his back.

Charlie and Murdock continued in this manner for some moments. Then without warning, Murdock pulled his lips from Charlie's, and stared into her eyes. His eyes held an unspoken question, and Charlie didn't need it vocalized to reply.

"Yes," she said softly.

Murdock felt his heart soar, and returned his lips to Charlie's, one hand caressing her hip as he delved in and out of her mouth with his tongue. Both felt a need growing so rapidly that it was nearly overwhelming.

They were so lost in their shared passion, neither one noticed a shadowy form that appeared in the bedroom doorway. The pair snapped to attention immediately, however, at the sound of a distinct, metallic click.

*****

Murdock's head whipped around instantly upon hearing the noise. Even before his eyes fell on the intruder, the recognizable sound of a gun being cocked told him what he would find behind him. Standing in the entrance to the bedroom was a tall, barrel-chested man, his features hidden from the light. Charlie instantly saw the glint of metal from the gun the man held steadily pointed at herself and Murdock. The figure took a step forward, his face suddenly becoming clear as light washed over it. His forehead was marred by a deep, jagged scar. It took only a split-second for the man's face to jar Charlie's memory, and she immediately recalled that this was Trent Smithton, the man the A-Team had identified as the owner of the pickup truck Murdock had spotted following the van. "Trent," she gasped as Murdock slid from her.

"Hiya, sweet cheeks," Trent drawled. "And what do we have here?" He narrowed his eyes as he gave Murdock the once-over.

"Trent, he has nothing to do with this," Charlie blurted frantically. "Let's keep this between you and me."

"Well now, Rick always said you were a slut," Trent sneered. "Looks like he had your number, baby." His eyes veered to Murdock, and in a flash, Trent had trained his gun on Murdock alone, realizing that Murdock was slowly moving to the side of the bed, his hand inching towards a jacket lying next to the bed on the floor. "Now, now, you don't really want to do that, do you, Casanova? I mean, just think how long it'll take Charlie to clean up when I blow your brains all over the carpet." Murdock stilled his movement. "'Sides," continued Trent, "you really wanna risk your life for this bitch?" Trent gestured wildly at Charlie with his gun.

"What do you want?" Murdock growled through tightly-clenched teeth. His eyes held a dangerous light Charlie had never seen before.

"Oh, I don't want nothing with you, buddy." Trent responded with dark menace. "I got no use for you, which is why I'll be killing you shortly."

Murdock's steely gaze did not waver. "Oughta be fun to watch you try."

Trent swung the gun back over to Charlie. "You might wanna tell your boyfriend to shut the hell up, sweetheart," he advised her.

Though her heart was racing frantically, Charlie tried to keep her voice neutral. "Why are you here, Trent?"

Trent smiled a sickening smile. "Rick's lonely for you, baby," he told her. "He's just dying to see you. And you really hurt his feelings when you turned him in, Charlie," Trent informed her snidely. "He wants me to bring you back home so he can tell you all about those hurt feelings."

"He's not getting enough fun out of feeling himself?" Murdock asked antagonistically.

Trent trained the gun on Murdock once again. "You're a real wise-ass, huh?" Trent's calm words belied the fury blatantly on display in his eyes.

Murdock's smile held obvious menace. "I'd rather be a wise-ass than a dumb-ass, Trent," he spat.

Charlie turned her gaze to Murdock's, her expression terrified. "What are you doing?" she whispered urgently.

Murdock smiled gently at her, and she found with some surprise that she could read the message he was conveying to her with his eyes: _trust me._

"Get up," Trent snarled at both of his captives. "Slowly. Hands where I can see 'em."

Charlie and Murdock both rose, standing on opposite sides of the bed. Trent moved towards Murdock, his gun held unwaveringly at Murdock's chest. As he moved, he barked a warning to Charlie, though he kept his eyes trained on Murdock. "Don't try any thing stupid, baby, or Romeo here gets it."

Charlie swallowed, standing frozen.

When he stood in front of Murdock, Trent crouched slowly, keeping his eyes on Murdock the whole time. He picked up the jacket, then straightened back up. He tossed it on the bed and reached into an inner pocket, his hand closing around a concealed gun, which he withdrew. "Well, now, you weren't fixin' to use this on me, were you?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," Murdock replied without a trace of fear.

Trent stuck the recovered gun into the waistband of his pants, behind his back. Then without warning, he drew back and punched Murdock savagely in the stomach. Murdock doubled over, gasping for air as Charlie let out a yelp. "Trent!" she screamed. "Stop it!"

Trent offered Murdock a toxic grin. "Well, well, you must be slippin' it to her a lot better than Rick ever did, buddy." He began to laugh, flashing yellow, discoloured teeth, but his mirth faded quickly when he noted Murdock's reaction.

Murdock's mouth was compressed into a thin, taught line. His hands were balled up into tightly clenched fists, and every muscle in his body was quivering as he fought the desire to pummel the man in front of him. He stood ramrod straight and moved his face closer to Trent's. "Shut. Your. Mouth," Murdock ground out slowly, the threat in his voice nearly palpable.

A lifetime of poor choices had resulted in Trent gaining the ability to recognize the threat of death in another man's face, and he saw it without question in the unflinching face before him. He backed away slightly and laughed nervously, trying to disguise the hint of fear he felt. "Time to go," he growled, moving backwards towards the door.

Charlie looked over at Murdock, and he nodded almost imperceptibly, his eyes flicking to Trent's waistband and back to her. She gathered he wanted her to make a grab for the gun, and noted that he held up a hand slightly while still keeping it by his side, inferring that she needed to wait for him to give her an opening first. Charlie's head dipped to confirm her understanding.

Trent moved to the foot of the bed, his back to the wall, his eyes rapidly moving from Charlie to Murdock and back again. "I said move," he barked anxiously. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something, particularly because the couple now seemed suspiciously calm.

Murdock and Charlie began to walk slowly towards Trent, matching their paces so that they were flanking Trent at the same speed. The result was that Trent was forced to divide his attention, and it made it nearly impossible for him to keep his eyes trained on both his captives at the same time.

Charlie and Murdock reached Trent simultaneously, and stopped on opposite sides of him.

He glanced at Murdock. "Now, if it was up to me, I'd end you right here," Trent informed him. "But Rick don't want no mess in this house, 'cuz he figures a dead body in the home of his witness's brother will send the cops after him. So we're gonna find a nice little roadside ditch, and you'll just be another random victim of some unknown killer." He shifted his focus to Charlie. "As for you, sugar," he sneered, "I'm bringing you back to Rick, and I bet he's got all kinds of fun in store for you, baby." Trent looked incredibly pleased with himself. "Now, let's go."

Charlie hesitated when she saw that Murdock wasn't budging.

"What, you two deaf?" Trent snapped. "Move!"

Murdock shook his head. "Look," he told Trent. "I usually listen to guys ready to kill me, but in all good consciousness, I can't take orders from a guy who's wearing a shoe covered in dog poo."

Trent instinctively looked down at his immaculately clean shoes, and Murdock had his contrived opening. With lightning speed, he smashed his fist into Trent's jaw, while his other hand snaked out and grabbed the gun from a startled Trent. It took only a split-second for Charlie to realize that Murdock had provided an opportunity for her to act, and she swiftly grabbed the other gun Trent had stashed in the back of his pants.

Trent's heart sank at the sight of two guns on either side of him, both aimed at his head. He raised one hand, rubbing his jaw with the other. "Whoa, whoa. Alright, you win. You got me, okay?" he offered in a panicky tone. "Come on, nobody's hurt, right? So I'll tell you what, how's about you guys just let me go, and I'll tell Rick I couldn't find you, and we can all just forget this ever happened, okay?"

Charlie snorted. "You have got to be kidding me," she responded.

Trent spoke rapidly. "Aw, c'mon baby, I wasn't gonna hurt you. Rick made me do it! I didn't wanna do it! I'm really a nice guy!" There was unmistakable desperation in his tone.

"Yeah, you're a real gem," Murdock said sarcastically. He looked up at Charlie. "Let's take this garbage to the curb, Charlie."

Charlie grinned. "Good idea," she returned. "I think tomorrow **is** garbage day."

Keeping their guns pointed at Trent and moving in tandem, Charlie and Murdock ushered Trent out of the house.

The trio eventually stood in the driveway, Trent now quivering. "What… what are you gonna do to me?" Trent simpered.

Murdock smirked. "Charlie, honey," he began. "I think I saw a shed out back. Why don't you go see if you can find a lawn chair and some duct tape?"

"It would be my pleasure," she answered smoothly. She passed her gun to Murdock and set off for the shed.

She rejoined the men after a very brief departure, a scuffed lawn chair in one hand, and a roll of duct tape in the other. She set the chair down next to Trent, as Murdock handed her gun back to her.

"Have a seat," Murdock instructed Trent. His voice was so calm, he could have been discussing the weather.

Trent did as he was told. This time, Murdock passed his gun to Charlie. He relieved her of the roll of silver tape, and deftly set about taping Trent to the chair.

Charlie watched Murdock manoeuvre the roll around Trent and the chair with astonishing speed. "He's good, huh?" she asked Trent, whose eyes were wide with fear.

It didn't take long for Murdock to finish securing Trent to the chair. He stood back and surveyed his handiwork, nodding when he decided he was satisfied with his efforts. He stepped to stand next to Charlie.

As Charlie kept a gun on Trent, Murdock began to question him. "So, Rick sent you here, did he?" he queried.

"Yeah."

"What's he want with Charlie?"

Trent shook his head. "Don't think he was gonna kill her or nothin'," he offered.

"Then what's he want her for?" Murdock asked.

"Far as I know, he was gonna hold on to her 'til after the trial. Guess he figured they'd hafta let him go if the star witness was missing." Though clearly nervous, Trent appeared to be telling the truth.

"He was going to imprison me?" Charlie gasped with disbelief.

Trent shrugged. "Guess so."

"Where is Rick?" Murdock demanded.

"I dunno," said Trent, looking away from Murdock.

Murdock landed a solid fist against the side of Trent's face. "Where's Rick?" he growled.

Trent spat a stream of blood. "Look, man, I don't know!" he repeated, growing insistent. "All I know is that he's back in L.A.! He gave me the job over the phone, so I don't know where he's staying! Check his house, genius," he snapped.

To Murdock's surprise, Charlie stepped forward and slapped Trent across the face. "Show some respect, you scum," she ordered.

Murdock tried hard to keep from laughing at Charlie's unexpected outburst, thrilled to see her get in on the act. He covered his mouth with one hand to keep Trent from seeing the unavoidable chuckle that escaped. The moment passed, and Murdock cleared his throat. "Then where were you supposed to take Charlie?" he asked, his voice returning to its former serious pitch.

"Listen man, Rick just gave me a number to call when I got back in town, and I was supposed to call from a payphone to get the drop point." When he saw Murdock beginning to draw his hand back for another punch, Trent immediately piped up again, his voice frenzied. "I swear, that's it! That's all I know! Come on, man, that's all I got!"

Murdock's hand dropped back to his side, and he turned to Charlie. "What do you think?" he asked.

Charlie shrugged. "Sounds like something Rick would do," she conceded. "He always was pretty paranoid."

Murdock nodded pensively. Then he looked back at Trent. "I think we're done here then, Trent. You've been a lovely thug. We realize you had a choice in targets, and you clearly chose the wrong ones." Murdock flashed a triumphant smile. He took both guns and fitted one into his jacket, leaving the other one in his grasp. "Can you please grab my bag for me while I finish up here?" he asked, glancing at Charlie. "Soon as you're all locked up, I'll join you in the van."

"Sure!" Charlie said with a winning grin. As she gathered Murdock's belongings, Murdock reached for the roll of tape he'd left on the ground. He tore a piece off with his teeth, and slapped it over the mouth of a startled Trent.

Charlie emerged as Murdock was pushing the tape firmly to Trent's lips, ensuring it was securely in place. Murdock then looked down at Trent, and with great amusement, exclaimed, "Nice talkin' to you, Trent!" as he slapped the man jovially on the shoulder.

Charlie laughed and tossed Murdock his bag, then locked the front door of Fenlon's house. "Ready?" she asked.

"Ready!" Murdock replied enthusiastically.

Finally realizing that Charlie and Murdock intended to leave him in the driveway stuck to a lawn chair, Trent's eyes grew wide, and he shook his head violently as he tried to shout through the duct tape.

Unmoved by Trent's frenzied actions, Charlie and Murdock turned their backs on him, and strolled to the van. Murdock was relieved to see that Trent had parked his flashy sports car along the curb, leaving the driveway clear for the van to back out. He and Charlie hopped into their vehicle. With matching smiles, Charlie and Murdock both gleefully waved goodbye to Trent as Murdock tapped out a jaunty string of honks on the horn.

A thoroughly miserable Trent slumped as much as his duct tape restraints would allow, stewing in defeat as the van disappeared from sight.


	7. Chapter 7

Charlie and Murdock barely made it to the end of Fenlon's street before their twin smiles faded. The arrival of Trent had made it abundantly clear to both of them that Rick was no longer a mere possible threat; Rick was now a definite threat, and given that he'd sent a man all the way to Montana to collect Charlie and kill her travel companion, neither Charlie nor Murdock had any doubts that Rick would do anything and everything necessary to exact his revenge and prevent Charlie's testimony.

Both passengers in the van were feeling more than a little shaken by the close call they had just experienced, and a few minutes of silence passed as they each worked to calm their nerves.

Once Charlie felt her anxiety beginning to die down, she turned to Murdock. "What now?'

Murdock's face was stoic. "We gotta get back to L.A. pronto," he asserted. "I don't know how the hell Rick knew to look for us in Montana – though I'm guessing he found out about the funeral- but the fact that he found us, and the fact that we have no idea where he is right now… clearly, the guy means business. He's got the upper hand, and we gotta take it from him."

"And how do we do that?"

A slow grin washed over Murdock's face. "We bring in the A-Team."

Charlie noted the pride in Murdock's voice. "You sure they'll be on board? This could get pretty dangerous."

"Trust me, danger is like an aphrodisiac to Hannibal," Murdock said earnestly. "Besides, the guys and I look out for each other. Trent made it pretty clear that you and I are both in danger, and that's all the boys need to hear to jump in."

The conviction in Murdock's words gave Charlie all the assurance she needed to hear.

Murdock gestured to the phone between the two front seats. "I need you to call Hannibal for me, honey. We gotta let him know what's going on. We'll start with Face's apartment; if Hannibal's not there, Face should be able to tell us where we can reach him."

"Right," Charlie affirmed, and picked up the van's phone, dialling a number Murdock dictated to her.

The phone rang twice before a familiar voice answered on the other end.

"Hello?"

"Face?" Charlie inquired. "Hi, it's Charlie."

"Charlie!" Face responded cheerily. "You decide you're ready for a date with the Faceman?"

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Hate to disappoint you, Face, but this is a business call."

Murdock smiled as he drove. He had a pretty good idea of how Charlie was disappointing Face.

"Aw," Face moaned melodramatically. "So, what's up?"

"Murdock asked me to call Hannibal with an update; there's been a slight change of plans. Is he around?"

Face's voice quickly shifted to a worried tone. "Everyone okay?" he asked with concern.

"Yeah, we're fine," Charlie was quick to reassure him, "but we did have a bit of a run-in with one of Rick's henchmen."

"Phew," Face breathed, his relief evident. "Okay, hang on a sec, Charlie, I'm gonna go get Hannibal."

There was a muffled sound as Face held the receiver to his chest and called for Hannibal. Returning the phone to his ear, Face assured Charlie, "okay, he'll be on in a second. B.A. went home to catch the football game, so for now it's just me and the Colonel."

"Thanks, Face."

It took less than thirty seconds for Hannibal to join the conversation.

"Captain?" Hannibal began jovially.

"Um, no, this is Charlie? Murdock's friend?" For some reason, Charlie was feeling suddenly intimidated by the older man.

"Ah, so you're the lady I've heard so much about," Hannibal replied.

"All good things though, right Hannibal?" Face chimed in.

"More or less," Hannibal said cryptically. "The lieutenant here seems to be a fan."

Charlie wasn't sure how to respond. "Hmm," she offered, a little awkwardly.

"So, Face says there's an update?" Hannibal prompted.

"Yes, right," Charlie answered, grateful for the change of subject. "Murdock and I ran into a bit of trouble at my brother's place," she explained. She quickly related the encounter with Trent. As she spoke, Murdock supplied any details she overlooked, which she promptly repeated to Hannibal and Face. A lengthy sigh signalled the completion of her retelling.

Following her story, a few moments of silence passed as Hannibal mulled over her words.

"Whaddya think, Hannibal?" Face eventually asked.

Charlie heard the flick of a match as Hannibal lit a cigar.

"Well," he began, voice slightly strained by the cigar clamped between his teeth. "I think this is definitely more dangerous than we first thought."

"And?" urged Face.

Charlie heard Hannibal laugh. "And I love it!" he proclaimed. "Where's the fun if there's no danger?"

Face groaned. "Already on the jazz, huh?"

Charlie frowned. "The jazz?"

Murdock chuckled as he heard Charlie's question.

"Ask Murdock later," Face told her.

"So, what's the ETA?" Hannibal wanted to know.

Charlie repeated the question to Murdock, then recited his answer to the two men on the other end of the phone. "Murdock figures we'll be back in less than twenty hours. We're gonna take shifts where one drives and the other sleeps so we can get back without stopping." Charlie noticed Murdock gesturing at her. "Wait, hang on," she said to Hannibal and Face. She turned to Murdock and he instructed her to say one more thing, which she promptly repeated into the phone. "Murdock also says not tell B.A. that I'll be driving the van too."

Face laughed. "Yeah, good idea. Make sure you thank Murdock, he might have just saved your life."

Back in L.A., Hannibal rolled his eyes. "I believe the Lieutenant may be exaggerating slightly," he informed Charlie.

"I am not!" Face cried defensively.

"Sure, Face," Hannibal soothed before redirecting his words back to the woman on the other end of the phone. "Don't worry kid, our lips are sealed. And tell Murdock I'm working on a foolproof plan."

"Will do," Charlie confirmed.

"So I guess we'll see you tomorrow?" Face asked.

"Yep," Charlie replied. "And listen, I really want to thank you guys for helping me here. I mean, you don't even know me… I owe you a huge debt of gratitude." Charlie's tone was sincerely grateful.

Face responded quickly, saying, "Just so you know, we do take cheques."

Hannibal snorted. "You're a funny guy, Faceman."

"Who's being funny?" Face shot back.

"Alright, Ms. Burchell, we'll see you tomorrow," Hannibal said with mild irritation. "Lookin' forward to meetin' you, kid."

"I'm looking forward to meeting you myself," Charlie countered. "Bye, guys. And thanks."

Charlie pushed a button to hang up the phone, returning it to the spot she'd acquired it from. She shifted her gaze to Murdock. "So, Hannibal says he has a foolproof plan." Her voice was decidedly hopeful.

Murdock nodded. "He always has foolproof plans. I should warn you that an awful lot of his plans are exceptionally crazy, but they always work. The man's a genius."

"Given what Mutton told me about your frequent escapes from the V.A., and given that you apparently always came back in one piece, I'm inclined to believe you," Charlie told Murdock. A lengthy pause followed before Charlie began, "Murdock, I… what will…" Her voice trailed off and she furrowed her brow.

It was obvious to Murdock that she had something to say, but was struggling to figure out how to say it. "What is it, Charlie?" he asked.

Charlie hesitated for a few more moments, then took a deep breath and blurted, "I don't believe in the death penalty."

Murdock looked at her blankly, trying to keep one eye on the road. "Uh…. what?"

"I… you know, when someone commits a crime, I believe they should be punished, but I don't believe in killing as a punishment."

"Ohhhhh." Understanding finally dawned on Murdock. "You're asking if the Team plans to kill Rick, right?" Seeing Charlie nod, he reached his hand out and rested it on her thigh, giving her leg a little squeeze, hoping the move would help reassure her. "We don't kill people, Charlie," he explained. "All four of us had to kill men in 'Nam, and…" Murdock's voice trailed off, and Charlie watched as a haunted look briefly flared in Murdock's eyes. Then, the change in Murdock's expression disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and he glanced furtively at Charlie. Seeing the concern written on her face, he felt immediately vulnerable and rushed to finish what he had been saying. "Let's just say we got our fill. But make no mistake, Rick and his buddies **will** be punished," Murdock asserted with a conviction that left no room for doubt, even as he experienced an unfamiliar and utterly irrational twang of jealousy over Charlie's concern about Rick's life.

Fortunately, Charlie flashed Murdock a warm, trusting smile, and he felt his envy make a rapid retreat. "I think I might be looking forward to that a little," she admitted.

Murdock chortled. "I think I'm looking forward to that a lot," he returned. "Now then," he said, turning to take a quick look at the bench seating behind them to confirm that there was nothing on it. "I'll take the first driving shift, and you get back there and try to get some sleep."

"But I'm not even tired!" Charlie pouted.

"I could sing you a lullaby," Murdock offered, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning wickedly.

Charlie adopted a look of terror. "Alright, alright, I'll try to sleep!" she yelped. "There's no need to threaten me!" She unclipped her seatbelt while Murdock's laughter rang in her ears. She got to her feet as best as she could, and squeezed between the front seats.

"I left a fire blanket under the seat," Murdock tossed back, still chuckling.

Plunking down onto the bench seat, Charlie reached down and rooted around under the seat until her fingers came in contact with some scratchy fabric. With a tug she freed the blanket. She removed her jacket and balled it up to make a pillow, then reclined and dragged the blanket over herself. Now that the makeshift bed was complete and she was lying down, Charlie discovered that she was in fact incredibly tired, and she swiftly felt every ounce of energy begin to drain from her body. As she began to drift off, she called drowsily to Murdock. "Don't let me sleep too long, okay? You need to sleep just as much as I do. Make sure-" She paused for a moment as a yawn emerged, then resumed the sentence. "Make sure you wake me in a few hours so we can switch." Her eyelids felt immeasurably heavy.

"I'll take it under advisement," Murdock replied. When no response was forthcoming, he shot a quick look behind himself and found Charlie fast asleep.

*****

"Charlie? Charlie, sweetheart?"

Charlie was dreaming she was in her father's house. In the dream, Charlie was in Fenlon's room, but it was decorated the way it had been when he was a little boy. Train tracks criss-crossed the wallpaper, and the shelves were lined with things like stuffed dinosaurs and painstakingly assembled model cars. She could hear her father calling out to her, but no matter how hard she pulled, she couldn't open the door of Fenlon's room to answer her father's searching cries. "Sweetheart? Charlie?" her father called again.

As she battled the immovable door, Charlie felt herself beginning to emerge from sleep, rising slowly back up to consciousness as she became increasingly aware of her real surroundings.

Her eyes opened slowly, and she realized that it had not been her father calling her; it was Murdock, trying to wake her. She blinked a few times as Murdock's face came into focus. A surge of warmth swept her body as it occurred to her how much she enjoyed waking up to his handsome features. "Hmm… hi," she breathed sleepily.

A lazy grin spread swiftly across Murdock's face. "Hi," he murmured, gently tucking an errant strand of auburn hair behind Charlie's ear. A strange silence descended as they looked at one another, both briefly lost in the intimacy of the moment and the undeniable feelings it evoked.

Charlie ultimately broke the silence, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. She surveyed her surroundings and saw that Murdock had pulled the van into a little highway truck stop; she realized with a start that it was daylight. "Murdock, I told you not to let me sleep too long!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe you drove straight through the night!"

Murdock shrugged. "Couldn't bring myself to wake you up," he told her. "You just looked so peaceful, I figured I'd let you sleep." He gestured to the driver's seat. "But you get to drive now," he informed her. "I'm having a tough time keeping my eyes open, so saddle up!"

Charlie's annoyance quickly dissipated. She stretched and rose from the rear seat; Murdock stepped out the side door to allow Charlie space to exit the van.

As Charlie kneaded a knot in her neck, Murdock pulled a rolled-up map from a back pocket. He unrolled the map and stood next to Charlie, tracing a route with his finger. "So, we're here," he said while pointing to an interstate which cut across Utah. He then briefed Charlie on the rest of the driving directions. She nodded and moved around the van to hop into the driver's seat, and Murdock took Charlie's former position on the bench seats.

Murdock removed his hat and ran his fingers through his hair while Charlie watched in the rear view mirror. "Alright, make sure you wake me if you see anything even remotely suspicious," Murdock warned.

Charlie nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Promise?" Murdock asked.

"Promise."

"Good," he declared. "'Night!"

"Good night, Murdock," Charlie answered with a smile.

Less than ten minutes later, Murdock was sound asleep.

*****

It appeared that luck was finally on the side of Charlie and Murdock, as the remainder of the drive back home was entirely uneventful. The pickup truck that had followed them on their drive to Montana did not make a return appearance, and no other vehicles in pursuit were seen. Murdock's nap had been considerably shorter than Charlie's, placing him behind the wheel as the pair arrived at Face's latest scammed apartment. Charlie had phoned about an hour prior to their arrival, ensuring that when she and Murdock finally came to the end of their journey, all three other team members would be waiting in Face's apartment to discuss and strategize about their next move.

With the sun just beginning to disappear over the horizon, Charlie and Murdock entered the parking garage below Face's apartment building. Murdock manoeuvred the van into a parking spot and killed the engine. Neither Charlie nor Murdock made any immediate effort to move. Instead, they turned to look at one another. Though both were relieved to have made it back to L.A. in one piece, they shared a certain degree of disappointment over the realization that their time alone together had come to an end; looking into one another's eyes served as a wordless acknowledgement of that mutual disappointment.

Eventually, Murdock sighed mightily and broke the gaze. He reached for the keys in the ignition, but dropped them before he could put them in his jacket pocket. He released a grunt of frustration and ducked below the dashboard. Unable to see where the keys had gone, he resorted to plunging his hand into the darkness below the seat, groping blindly.

As Charlie watched Murdock feeling around under the seat, she suddenly saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She twisted and gasped as she discovered the source of the movement: a mammoth black man sporting fatigues and wild hair was running towards the van at full tilt, looking angry and determined. Charlie realized with horror that Rick must have tracked her down, and sent this man to collect her. "Murdock!" she squeaked, frightened. "Murdock!"

Murdock did not lift his head. "One sec," he muttered without looking up. "… almost got 'em…"

Turning her eyes back to the approaching stranger, she gasped when she saw how terrifyingly close he was now; Charlie knew he'd be on them in less than ten seconds. With lightning speed, she reached across the seats and tugged at Murdock's jacket, pulling until she had access to the inner pocket. "Hey! Charlie, what-" Before he could finish voicing his surprise, Charlie had grabbed Murdock's pistol and jumped from the van. She adopted what she hoped was an intimidating voice and shouted, "Freeze!" at the man sprinting towards the van. She levelled her gun at the man, who immediately stopped dead in his tracks, raising his hands in surrender, looking far more angry than scared.

Seconds after Charlie had grabbed the gun, Murdock had snapped to attention and was now bolting from the van, swiftly coming around the side of the vehicle so he could get a look at what Charlie was doing.

"Murdock!" a furious voice barked, just as Murdock rounded the van.

Murdock looked from the man to Charlie and back to the man, then doubled over, shaking with laughter.

"Murdock, you crazy fool! Tell this lady I ain't the enemy!"

Gasping for breath, Murdock turned to Charlie, who now looked completely perplexed. Between giggles, Murdock managed to say, "Charlie, this is B.A. B.A., meet Charlie."

Charlie flushed a deep red and immediately dropped the gun to her side. "Oh my God, I am **so** sorry," she quickly told B.A. "There were people following us before, and I thought…" Charlie was clearly flustered as she raced to explain. "I'm really sorry," she finally finished. She walked hesitantly towards B.A. and offered her hand to him. "Charlie Burchell," she said nervously.

B.A. frowned at her for long seconds, scrutinizing the woman in front of him. After what seemed like hours to Charlie, he reached out for her hand at last and shook it slowly. "B.A. Baracus," he grumbled.

Murdock, meanwhile, was still laughing, though he was clearly trying to get his mirth under control. "Stop laughing, fool!" B.A. ordered. The command inexplicably set Murdock to laughing again.

When his chuckles finally subsided, Murdock took a deep breath and walked over to B.A., holding out his arms for a hug. "Miss me, big guy?" he gleefully asked the scowling sergeant as he moved towards him.

"Back off, fool! Ain't nobody missed you! And don't even think about hugging me unless you want your arms broken." B.A.'s tone was distinctly menacing.

To an outsider like Charlie, the exchange between Murdock and B.A. was both shocking and bewildering. _These two are actually __**friends**__?_ she wondered.

As though reading her mind, Murdock turned to her, saying, "Don't worry, Charlie, this is just how the big guy shows affection."

B.A. looked as though he was going to object to Murdock's claim, but seeing the need for reassurance on Charlie's face, opted to say nothing. "Came down to check on my van," he stated, turning back to Murdock. "Better be in perfect condition."

"'Course it is, B.A.!" Murdock drawled. "You go have yourself a little look-see, and me and Charlie will meet you upstairs."

B.A. grunted something Charlie assumed was a response, and headed for the van.

Murdock offered his arm to Charlie. "Shall we?"

Charlie looked at Murdock with slight hesitation, then linked her arm with his. The pair began to move towards the elevator on the other side of the garage.

As they strolled, Charlie looked up at Murdock with a grimace and said woefully, "I cannot **believe** I just did that to B.A."

Murdock chortled. "Are you kidding?" he asked with clear delight. "That may have been the highlight of the trip!" He paused and looked at Charlie. "Wait, scratch that, I can think of several other highlights." His voice was unmistakably suggestive, and Charlie had no trouble figuring out what other highlights he was referring to. She blushed. "Still, definitely in the top ten," he concluded.

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Let's just hope I don't make a fool of myself in front of Hannibal."

"No need to worry about that!" Murdock exclaimed, just as they reached the elevator. "Hannibal loves fools! Why do you think he keeps me around?"

Charlie giggled as Murdock pushed an elevator button. "Here's hoping," she muttered as the doors slid shut.

*****

Face's apartment was on the seventeenth floor of the towering high-rise, and the lengthy elevator trip gave Charlie plenty of time to cultivate her nervousness. She wasn't entirely sure why her stomach was flip-flopping like crazy. Perhaps it was because she was about to meet the legendary A-Team, whose exploits she had read about hundreds of times in the paper. A voice in the back of her head, however, nagged at her. _It's because you want Murdock's friends to like you._ _You want his family to like you, and this is his family._ Charlie tried desperately to push the voice from her head, and realized with a start that they were standing in front of a large oak door. Murdock raised both hands to the door, but instead of knocking, he starting rapping out the William Tell Overture with his knuckles. Charlie laughed. "Trying to trick Face into thinking the Lone Ranger's at his door?"

Murdock smiled at her. "You can be Tonto!" he suggested with excitement.

An irritated voice within the apartment yelled, "Alright, alright, I'm coming! Take it easy!"

The door was yanked opened a few seconds later, and Charlie was greeted by the familiar face of Templeton Peck. His annoyed expression melted as soon as he saw Charlie.

"Hi, Face!" she greeted him.

"Faceman!" yelped Murdock before engulfing his friend in a smothering bear hug.

"Hi, Murdock," Face replied dryly from the confines of the hug. When he realized Murdock had no intention of letting go any time soon, Face began struggling to get out of the smothering grasp. "Alright, Murdock," he grumbled, pushing against the pilot. "Alright!" he finally yipped, tearing himself from the hug. Once free of Murdock, Face automatically smoothed his hair down, then turned to Charlie. He opened his arms, and stepped towards her, saying, "What, no hug from you?"

Charlie grinned. "I think Murdock hugged you enough for both of us," she quipped.

Murdock stretched his arms towards Face again, saying, "I got more if that wasn't enough!"

Face whipped back around towards Murdock, throwing up his hands. "No, no," he was quick to answer, shaking his head frantically. "I'm good, I'm good."

Charlie's laugh was loud and tinkling. Face looked at her with a scowl, then looked back at Murdock. "What did you do to her?" he moaned. "You turned her against me!"

"Nah," came a slightly gravely voice from the other side of the room. "He just Murdock-ed her up a bit." A silver-haired man chomping on a cigar stood, and strolled towards the group in front of the door. "And don't forget, Lieutenant, all red-blooded Americans find it hilarious when Murdock drives you crazy."

"Colonel!" Murdock chirped, extending a hand. The older man quickly grabbed it, pulling Murdock in for a quick hug, punctuating it by clapping a firm hand across Murdock's back before releasing him. The man then turned to the lone woman in the room. "You must be Charlie," he surmised, speaking around the cigar clamped between his teeth. He reached up a hand covered in a black glove and took the cigar from his mouth, reaching with his other hand to offer Charlie a handshake. "Hannibal Smith."

Charlie smiled warmly and clasped the hand he had put forth. "Charlie Burchell," she reciprocated.

Hannibal returned the smile with genuine sincerity. He pumped her hand a few times, then let go and turned to Face. "Wow, you were right, Face," he remarked, his gaze deliberately wandering from Charlie's head to her toes and back up again. "She really is cute."

Charlie's face quickly turned bright red. Her reaction frustrated her; she did not want to come across as some helpless damsel in distress, awed by big, strong men. Determined to prove she was the equal of the four men, she smoothly said to Murdock, "and Murdock, I can't believe you didn't tell me how handsome the Colonel is." She raised her arm and moved her index finger in circles. "Give us a turn, Hannibal," she requested. His eyes twinkling, Hannibal complied. Charlie let out a low whistle. "Yowza!" she said smugly.

A flash of clear envy appeared in Murdock's eyes momentarily before he registered the imploring look on Charlie's face and recognized what she was doing. "Well," he said clearing his throat, "I just didn't think words could do Hannibal justice."

Hannibal tilted his head and slid the cigar back between his teeth, looking critically at Charlie for a minute. He knew exactly what Charlie was trying to assert with her brash actions. Impressed, he gave her a slow nod to communicate respect to her. As Face stared with mouth agape, a slow grin split Hannibal's face. He laughed and Charlie relaxed. "Oh, this is gonna be fun!" he declared jovially.

Murdock released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He felt immensely relieved by the fact that Charlie and Hannibal appeared to approve of one another. With the initial meeting of the two out of the way, Murdock turned to Face, and announced, "Faceman, I am starving! This apartment come with any grub?"

Face shook his head. "Nothing that counts as dinner food, unless you want some shredded wheat or beef jerky," he said woefully.

Murdock looked over at Charlie, who shuddered and stuck out her tongue. "Bleck," she blurted. "Shredded wheat is **awful**! It's like eating a bale of hay."

Face guffawed and walked to a phone perched on a mahogany end table next to a plush sofa. "Chinese food it is," he announced, and began to dial.

*****

Try as she might, Charlie could not remember the last time she had spent a more enjoyable evening. B.A. had resurfaced just as the Chinese food was being delivered, and the ensuing dinner had been highly entertaining, playing out like a rowdy family reunion. The men had teased one another mercilessly, and all four had been eager to regale her with accounts of their time together in Vietnam, and tales of their A-Team missions. Face and Hannibal had also delighted in telling Charlie as many embarrassing stories of Murdock as they could come up with, continually trying to outdo one another with increasingly embarrassing occurrences. In keeping with his nature, Murdock didn't shy from such stories, and opted instead to laugh right along with everyone else. Throughout the meal, Murdock had also spent a fair amount of time pushing B.A.'s buttons and driving him crazy, while B.A. reacted predictably by threatening to beat the tar out of Murdock. It was abundantly clear to Charlie why Murdock considered these men his family. Amidst the noise and the teasing, an obvious bond between the members of the Team was clearly apparent, and there was little doubt about the affection they all felt for one another.

When the last egg roll had been snatched up by B.A., the group moved at a leisurely pace to the living room, all five of them feeling lethargic and sated by the dinner they had just indulged in.

Face headed for a nearby liquor cabinet and returned with glasses and brandy, while Hannibal lit a cigar. Each person took a seat on one of two couches. Murdock took his seat next to Charlie, sitting closer than necessary and stretching an arm casually along the sofa behind her. The implication appeared to go unnoticed by B.A. and Face, but Hannibal spotted the subtle body language between the pair almost instantly. He raised his eyebrows and looked meaningfully at Murdock, but said nothing.

Snifter in hand, Face took a healthy swig from the glass, then sighed wearily and said, "Guess we gotta talk shop now, huh?"

Hannibal nodded. "Yep," he affirmed.

"Well, we're just security detail now, aren't we?" Face put forth. "So all we have to do is set up some security here and stick close to Charlie, and wait for Rick to come to us, right?"

"Wrong," Hannibal corrected him. "Classic military strategy, Face: the best defence is a good offence."

Murdock coughed. "Uh, Colonel, I'm pretty sure it's 'the best offence is a good defence'."

Hannibal appeared to mull this correction over for a few seconds, then replied, "No, I like mine better." He took a lengthy drag from his cigar.

"So how do we get this sucker, Hannibal?" B.A. asked, punching his right hand into the palm of his left in a menacing fashion.

"Hannibal, we don't even know where this guy is," Face pointed out.

Hannibal smiled around his cigar. "We're going to fix that, Lieutenant." He turned to Charlie. "I want you to make me a list of any friends of Rick's that he might be staying with here in L.A. You'll also need to write down his favourite places to hang out."

"Then what?" asked Face, furrowing his brow. "We just run around door-to-door until we find him?"

"More or less," Hannibal said with a sly grin.

Face bristled. "Don't you smile at me like that, Hannibal," he warned the Colonel. "I hate that smile. You're gonna make us do something awful, aren't you?"

"Awful compared to what?" Hannibal asked evasively.

"Hannibal…" Face began warily, but was cut off by Hannibal before he could finish his objection.

"Alright, you and B.A. are going to let Rick know that you want to get in on his little operation." As Hannibal spoke, he gestured broadly with his cigar. "You go to all the places Charlie lists for you, you knock on the door, and you ask for Rick."

"Hannibal, a guy like Rick ain't gonna just come running when a stranger shows up looking for him," B.A. protested.

Hannibal nodded. "Ah, but that's the beauty of this plan, gentlemen. You're gonna leave a message at each place you go: you'll tell whoever you talk to that you've got a large shipment of heroin coming in two days and you want Rick for the distribution end. Then you tell the person if Rick wants in on the action, he can meet you at the wharf at noon the next day."

Murdock considered the plan. "You sure he'll come?" he asked Hannibal. "I mean according to Charlie, he's got quite a lucrative operation as it is."

Charlie shook her head. "Trust me, he'll show if he gets the message. No matter how big his racket was, he was always looking for ways to make it bigger. He's too greedy to pass up making more money."

"So what do we do when this dude shows up, Hannibal?" B.A.'s voice held a slight scepticism.

"I'll let you know once phase one is complete," Hannibal informed the group. He looked at Charlie. "I like to keep 'em guessing," he explained to her, smiling mischievously. "Makes things a little more fun." He punctuated his words with a wink directed at Charlie.

"Fun for **you**, Hannibal," Face grumbled.

Hannibal chuckled. "It most certainly is, kid."

A yawn escaped B.A.'s mouth. He stood and stretched, running a hand over his face. "We start the plan tomorrow, Hannibal?" B.A. asked. When Hannibal nodded, B.A. continued. "Right. We'll all meet here by, let's say, 9 a.m.?"

"Sounds good," confirmed Hannibal before he stood and stretched as well. His gaze swept across the group in front of him. "I feel good about this guys," he told them confidently. "Real good." Chomping on his cigar, Hannibal then affixed his gaze to Murdock. "You two need a ride somewhere?" he asked Charlie and Murdock.

Murdock shook his head. "Thanks, Colonel, but I'm shacking up with the Faceman tonight. Right, oh Facial One?" He turned to Face, who nodded.

Hannibal's eyes turned to Charlie. "You here too, kid?"

Charlie opened her mouth to speak, but Face jumped in before she could answer. "Of course she is!" he said enthusiastically. "We'll have a little slumber party!"

Charlie rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the smile that arose. "Well, I guess that answers your question," she remarked dryly to Hannibal. "Evidently, we're going to braid one another's hair and talk about boys."

"I've always thought B.A. was real dreamy," Murdock chirped, clasping both hands over his heart.

B.A. growled at Murdock.

Hannibal and B.A. moved towards the main door. B.A. opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Hannibal stopped in the door frame and pivoted back to the three people in the living room. "Make sure you get some sleep guys," he ordered. "I want my team rested for tomorrow." He took a drag from his cigar. "And Charlie," he said with evident sincerity, "we **will** get this guy. We'll get him, and we'll keep you safe the whole time."

Charlie nodded and said whole-heartedly, "I know, Hannibal."

Hannibal grinned broadly, then disappeared down the hall with B.A.

*****

Just after Hannibal and B.A. had left for the evening, a dark look passed briefly over Charlie's face; Murdock picked up on it immediately. "Charlie, what's wrong?" he was quick to ask, watching with concern as she unceremoniously flopped onto Face's couch.

She sighed, then brought her thumb and index finger to her nose and pinched the top of it as though trying to ward off a headache. "It's Jake," she grumbled. "I gotta call him."

Across the room, Face was standing behind a small bar. He had picked up a wine magazine and had been leafing through it as Charlie spoke, but swiftly swivelled his head in her direction upon hearing the name of an unknown male. "Jake?" he queried. "Who's Jake?"

"He's the cop who hid me in the V.A."

"Cop?" Face spat, as though he had just tasted something unspeakably awful. "Murdock, she's still with the cops?!" Having dropped the magazine on the bar, Face wheeled on his friend, an accusatory look in his eye.

Murdock opened his mouth to speak, but before he could reassure Face, Charlie jumped in. "Face, I promise, you don't need to worry. He doesn't know where I am or who I'm with. And even if he did, I'm not entirely sure he would do anything about you and the team. He's a good guy, Face." Charlie's voice carried a tone intended to soothe.

Face looked less than convinced. "He can be the nicest guy around, Charlie, but he's still a cop. He's got a job to do, and that job includes arresting criminals."

"Face, there is no universe in which I would ever put you or any of the team in danger." She paused and looked from Face to Murdock.

"And why do you need to call him?" Murdock asked.

Charlie sighed. "I just want to see if he's got any updates on Rick or the trial. For all I know, Rick could have knocked over a convenience store last night and bought himself some jail time, in which case, I could get out of your hair," she said matter-of-factly.

As she spoke, Murdock moved across the room to stand close to her. "Well, she's got you there, buddy," he said with an unmistakably mischievous light in his eyes. "You know how much you hate it when stuff messes up your hair."

Face's mouth compressed to a thin line as he scowled at Murdock. "You're not helping," Face informed him ruefully.

"You're just gonna have to trust me on this, Face," Charlie said with finality.

Face crossed his arms, his expression uncertain. "What if he traces the call?"

"I'm calling him at home, not at the precinct." Charlie stood and walked to her duffle bag, dug through the contents, and returned with her wallet. After shuffling through a myriad of cards, she finally produced the one she was looking for and held it up. "He gave me his home number for emergencies, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't have equipment lying around his house to trace phone calls with."

Silence reigned for a minute while Face mulled over Charlie's assurances. Murdock knew Face was going through a mental list in his head of all the possible ways Jake might discover the team's location.

Finally, Face came to the end of his list. Barring anything completely inconceivable, he could see no way the call might result in the team's capture. Though he still had reservations about Charlie contacting a police officer, he could see no immediate danger in it and said to Charlie, "Alright, I'm trusting you here. Just watch your words really carefully; any little thing could tip this guy off about us. There's a phone in the master bedroom you can use."

Charlie nodded, then flashed Face an appreciative smile before turning towards the room Face had specified. "You're a doll, Face."

"Ah, but what kind of doll?" Murdock quipped. "Chatty Kathy? Raggedy Andy?"

"Murdock…" Face said in a voice that was half-warning, half-irritated.

The tone did not slow Murdock in the least. "Wait, are there any dolls who are dandies? Like a doll called 'Dapper Dan' or something?"

Giggling helplessly, Charlie excused herself to go find the phone. When she reached the doorway of the master bedroom, she glanced back towards the living room just in time to see Face land a flying tackle on Murdock.

*****

Charlie's fingers moved very slowly as she dialled Jake's home number. A big part of her hoped desperately that he wouldn't be home, knowing that if he answered, she was going to be faced with a very unpleasant conversation. Still, the more rational voice of her conscience knew she would have to face the man at some point, especially given that she really did need to know how the situation with Rick was progressing, if indeed it even was.

On the third ring, a slightly grouchy sounding male answered the phone. "Hello?"

Charlie swallowed. "Jake?" she asked rather timidly.

"Yes?"

"It's Charlie."

"Charlie?!" Jake's voice conveyed a tone of both surprise and anger. "What the hell is going on? Where are you?"

"It's a long story," Charlie replied apologetically.

"You better believe you're going to tell me that story right now," Jake growled. "How about you start by telling me why the V.A. seems to think you and another patient are in Russia?"

Recalling the ridiculous escape story Jake was referring to, Charlie almost burst out laughing, then quickly sobered when she remembered why she had needed the cover story to begin with. "Jake, I'm sorry. I needed to go to Fenlon's funeral. I had to say goodbye." Much to her chagrin, Charlie began to tear up as she spoke.

There was a momentary silence, then Jake blew out a long breath and said, "I don't like what you did Charlie, but I understand it."

"Thank you, Jake."

"Don't get me wrong here, I'm still angry," Jake clarified almost immediately. "I put myself out there to keep you safe, and you repay me by disappearing."

Jake's assessment of her actions made them sound far more cruel than Charlie had considered them to be. "That was never my intention, Jake," Charlie offered sincerely. "I'm so sorry. I didn't even think about it like that; all I thought of was getting to Fenlon."

"And who's the guy you left with?"

Charlie paused a moment, wanting to choose her words carefully. She slowly said, "He was just my neighbour in the V.A., Jake. He had access to a vehicle, so he drove me to Montana."

Jake's instincts told him that Charlie wasn't telling him the whole truth about the man she escaped with, but suspected he wouldn't get anything more out of her if he pressed the issue. "Where's this guy now?" Jake wanted to know.

"Beats me," Charlie lied. "For all I know, he could be back in the V.A. as we speak."

"He's not."

"Huh," Charlie replied, trying her best to sound apathetic about Murdock.

Again, Charlie's response rang untrue with Jake, but he opted to move on to more pressing problems. "You realize Rick could have easily found you and turned your lights out for good?"

"Um… he did kind of find me," Charlie confessed.

"What?" Jake blurted, his earlier annoyance resurfacing. "What do you mean he 'kind of' found you? Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

Charlie immediately offered reassurance. "I'm fine, Jake, I'm fine. It was one of his flunkies. It was a guy named Trent, working for Rick. He caught me at Fenlon's house, but I was lucky enough to get away."

On his end, Jake narrowed his eyes. "And just how did you manage that?" he asked suspiciously.

Frantically, Charlie searched her brain for a plausible explanation. Twisting the phone cord nervously around her fingers, she returned, "He… was distracted for one moment, and I saw the opportunity and took it. I ran."

Jake skipped calling Charlie out about the obvious lie, deciding to focus on Charlie's safety. "He didn't hurt you at all?"

"No, thank God."

"And I'm guessing no one saw him confront you?"

"You guess right," Charlie confirmed.

"Damn," Jake muttered. "That means we can charge the guy, but it'd never stick. He could deny it flat out, or say he was just visiting you. Either way, there's no evidence."

Charlie had suspected as much: Rick had been skirting the law for so long, she knew he would never be stupid enough to leave behind any sign of his involvement with a criminal activity, and would have advised Trent about how to do the same. "It doesn't matter, Jake. Once Rick's in jail, his lackeys will topple like dominoes."

"Let's hope so," Jake told her warily. Changing gears, his voice perked up slightly as he declared, "I've got news about the trial."

"What is it?"

"Trial's been moved up," he said.

Charlie felt a mixture of gratitude and anxiety at the sound of Jake's words: the idea that the danger she was in should be over sooner than expected was a relief, but the knowledge that she would be confronting Rick in a courtroom earlier than anticipated unleashed a barrage of butterflies in her stomach. "So, when is it happening?"

Jake, on the other hand, had felt only appreciative when he had been advised of the new court date; he had awoken this morning to find a new sprinkling of grey hairs on his head, and was sure they'd sprung up as a result of the stress brought on by Charlie's disappearing act. "A week from today," he said in response to Charlie's question.

Charlie sat stunned for a moment, the fingers twirling the phone cord stilling. "Next week?" she said in disbelief.

"Yup." Hearing the silence on the other end of the line, Jake pointed out, "That's a good thing, Charlie." When no reply was forthcoming, Jake repeated, "Charlie?"

"Hmm? …yeah, I'm here. It's… yeah, it's good," she said absently, her mind conjuring up images of the courtroom, of Murdock returning to the V.A. without her, of her return to a very lonely life.

Jake waited for Charlie to say something more, but she vocalized no further reactions. "Wow, your enthusiasm is overwhelming," he said flatly, his voice conveying obvious sarcasm.

Charlie sighed. "Sorry, Jake. The earlier trial is great news. I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Okay then," he said, his voice weary. "Just tell me where you are, and I'll come get you, so we can put you back in a safe location."

Jake's request brought Charlie back to the matter at hand. "I can't tell you where I am, Jake."

Jake sat bolt upright in his chair at home. "What do you mean, you can't tell me?" He demanded with clear irritation. He brought his hand to his head and tried to massage away the throbbing headache he had suddenly developed. "You need to tell me right now."

Charlie sighed. "I can't," she said again. "I promise I'm somewhere safe, but that's all I can tell you."

"Charlie," Jake warned. "I don't know what the hell you're trying to do here, but you better stop trying to do it, and tell me where you are."

"Can't do it, Jake," she replied. "Just know that I'm safe, I promise. I'll call and check in with you in a few days, okay?"

"Charlie!" Jake barked. "Tell me where you are! Don't you dare hang up on me! I swear to God, Charlie…"

Charlie took the phone from her ear while Jake raged on his end. She could still hear him shouting as she replaced the phone in its cradle, and hoped she hadn't just burned a very important bridge.

*****

Face shifted his gaze from the TV to Charlie when he heard her re-enter the living room. "How's your cop buddy?" he asked without bothering to hide his disdain.

Charlie plopped down on the opposite end of the couch that Face was sitting on. "Furious," she said with a sigh. Looking over at Face, she saw that the corners of his mouth twitched into a tiny smile upon hearing her response.

"And he doesn't know where you are and who you're with?" Face probed.

Charlie smiled. "That's why he's furious." She glanced around the room. "Where's Murdock?" she asked, furrowing her brow.

Face gestured to a room across from the master bedroom. "Gone to bed," he told her. "The guy looked pretty beat."

Charlie ran a hand through her hair and tilted her head back against the top of the couch. "Yeah, he's had a long couple days," she responded, her own eyes involuntarily drooping.

"So have you," Face reminded her, his tone softening slightly. "You oughta get some sleep as well."

Charlie yawned. "You won't get any argument from me." She stood and stretched, picking up her duffle bag from a spot near an end table where she had left it. "Just point me in the right direction."

"I already have," he told her, his expression slightly amused. "You're sleeping in the same room as Murdock; the place only has the one bedroom."

"What?" Charlie blurted, blushing, even as she tried to act nonchalant. "Murdock and I aren't… well, we can't share a bed." Her words tumbled from her mouth at lightning speed, and sounded guilty even to her own ears.

"Funny," Face said, thoroughly enjoying himself. "Murdock said the exact same thing in almost the exact same way when I told him about the sleeping arrangement."

Somehow, Charlie managed to blush an even deeper red.

Face finally took a little pity on Charlie, telling her, "Don't worry, I found an air mattress in one of the closets. Don't ask me why the guy who lives here would have one, but he does, so one of you can sleep on that." Seeing that Charlie's body language still suggested that she was not convinced about the merits of the idea, he added, "Look, it's better than the couch. Plus, the set of linens I left in there is pure Egyptian cotton."

Realizing Face was right about the couch being a poor choice for a bed, she sighed and nodded. "Fine," she conceded. "But there won't be anything going on in there besides sleep, just so you know." She turned and started for the bedroom.

She had her hand on the doorknob when she heard Face call out, "Murdock said the same thing!"

*****

Murdock had just finished dressing the air mattress with the linens Face had given him when Charlie walked into the room. "Hi!" he said cheerily when he looked up.

Charlie felt inexplicably shy in his presence. "Hi," she returned.

"If it's alright with you, I thought I'd take the air mattress," he told her.

"Fine by me," she replied far too quickly, noticing how small the room was, noticing how close the make-shift bed was to the actual bed. She looked down at the duffel bag she was holding. She reached the traditional bed in two short strides and dropped the bag on it. She unzipped it and rummaged for her pyjamas, focusing far more attention than necessary on the act in an attempt to avoid focusing on Murdock. She turned, pyjamas in hand, and said, "Gotta go put these on. Back in a sec." She left the room, heading in the direction of the bathroom. Murdock took the opportunity to change into his navy blue sweat pants and doff his t-shirt. He turned on a bedside lamp, turned off the big overhead light, and settled himself onto the air mattress. The change in lighting bathed the room in a soft, golden glow.

Charlie rejoined him a few minutes later, clad in a tank top and loose, black flannel pants. She sat down on the bed, dropping the duffel bag on the floor near the foot of it. She tucked her legs beneath her and looked over at Murdock, discovering that he too was looking at her. Earlier that day, she had resolved to have an honest conversation with him about whatever it was that was going on between the two of them. Now, face-to-face and alone in a bedroom with him, her brain seemed to be having difficulty stringing together coherent sentences. Her mind was evidently far too occupied with losing itself in the warm, compassionate brown eyes staring back at her; it occurred to her that his eyes had become so familiar to her, she knew every golden fleck and nuanced emotion in them by heart.

Long seconds ticked by as the pair stared into one another's eyes. Murdock thought of the old cliché about eyes being the windows to the soul. Though the notion had always seemed fairly cheesy to him, he had to admit now that Charlie's eyes relayed truths to him that did not coincide with her attempts to deny her feelings, and imagined his own eyes were probably mirroring the same reality.

It was ultimately Charlie who broke the silence. "Face said that when he mentioned the sleeping arrangements, you immediately informed him that we don't share a bed."

Murdock looked at her askew, puzzled. "Well, I… wait, why would Face tell you that? Seems like a weird thing to let you know about."

Charlie's eyes darted around the room, suddenly finding it hard to maintain eye contact with Murdock. "Because, uh…" She cleared her throat, feeling slightly nervous. "Because I did the same thing." She finally found the courage to return Murdock's gaze.

"Ahh," Murdock said with a broad grin. He stood up and moved to the bed, sitting down next to Charlie on the edge of the mattress. He could smell the strawberry scent of her shampoo. They turned and looked at one another, though both kept their bodies facing out from the bed. "Why do you suppose we did that?" Murdock asked.

Charlie shrugged, all too aware of Murdock's proximity. "Why did you?"

Amusement flickered across Murdock's eyes. "You know, in zee V.A., vee call zat deflecting," Murdock informed her in his very best, over-the-top, Sigmund Freud accent.

Charlie rolled her eyes as she giggled. "Who's deflecting now, Freud?" she countered.

"Oh, right," Murdock conceded. He paused thoughtfully for a moment before speaking. "Well, in the first place, Hannibal has a rule about not getting involved with clients." Hearing his own words, he immediately blurted, "Not that we're involved or anything… I mean, involved, per se… I mean, it's not that-"

Charlie felt slightly amused at Murdock's nervous, befuddled clarification and raised a hand, signalling him to stop. "Just go on, Murdock," she prompted.

Murdock flashed a self-deprecating grin. "Gotcha. The other reason, though, is just that…" His voice trailed off as he considered his next words very carefully. "The other reason is just that whatever this… thing we have going here is, I'm not ready to let the boys in on it." He frowned. "I mean, I wouldn't even know what to tell them, given that I'm still not sure what exactly it is I'd be telling them about."

Charlie nodded. "I hear you. I think that may be part of the reason I reacted to Face the same way you did." She looked past Murdock to an art nouveau painting on the wall behind him. "And I guess the other part is that I feel like I wanna… impress the team, you know? Those guys are your family. If they don't think much of me… well, I'm guessing I won't see much of you if that happens."

Murdock reached up and took her chin gently with his thumb and forefinger, turning her focus back to him. "Listen," he said insistently. "I don't care what they think. I know what I think."

Charlie drew her face from his hand. She stood, running her fingers through her hair with agitation. "You can say that all you want, but let's be real here, Murdock." She looked down at him. "The truth is, I can't even figure out how this will work. You live in the V.A. I'm running from a drug-world king pin. Those worlds don't fit."

"Stop it," Murdock snapped, rising to stand next to her, facing her. "You're over-thinking this. It's like you're counting on getting hurt or something. It is possible for two people to have a relationship without it ending in tragedy, you know." His face was inches from hers, his hands gripping her upper arms.

She found herself incapable of looking anywhere but directly into his eyes. She released a frustrated sigh and reached up to cup his cheek with her hand. "I'm just trying to be real, here, Murdock," she murmured.

Murdock felt her warm breath on his face. "Charlie, you want real?" he growled. "This is real." He sealed his lips with hers, kissing her with a passion that made her knees so weak, she actually slumped against him for support. His arms immediately encircled her, pulling her flush against him.

As she opened her mouth to Murdock's insistent tongue, Charlie slid her arms up his bare chest and around his neck, gripping his head to pull him into an impossibly deeper kiss. Their tongues intertwined and explored, both Charlie and Murdock savouring tastes and textures.

Murdock's hands roamed across Charlie's back, leaving searing trails of heat in their wake. Charlie felt like every nerve ending in her body was firing at once. He slid one hand up the side of her body, beginning at her hip, travelling upwards until he grazed the side of her breast. The other hand came to rest near the small of her back. He pulled her to him, lifting her slightly and bringing her with him to sit on the edge of the bed, his lips never leaving hers.

Charlie clutched at Murdock, bringing her hands to the front of him, running her fingers through the soft thatch of hair on his chest, caressing him while feeling the heat radiating from his skin beneath her palms.

Murdock broke the kiss just long enough to remove her tank top. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of her exposed breasts, beautiful alabaster orbs, pert as they rose and fell with Charlie's laboured breathing. He returned to Charlie's mouth, sucking her tongue, nipping at her lower lip. Charlie felt an overwhelming heat uncoiling in her belly.

As the kiss continued, each of Murdock's hands sought out a breast. He felt Charlie gasp into his mouth as he began to knead. He ran a thumb over each nipple, feeling them stiffen beneath his touch. He finally moved his lips from her own, and began kissing her neck, forging a trail downwards with his lips and his tongue, his fingers continuing to caress her breasts as he made his way.

Charlie began to whimper, arousal screaming from every pore in her body. She threw her head back to grant Murdock full access to her neck, feeling a need grow that was so powerful, it was almost frightening.

Murdock took his time, wanting to savour every square inch of her body. He moved at a deliberately slow pace, straining to keep his own desire in check. His kisses reached her breasts, and he eagerly drew one into his mouth, one hand still lavishing attention on the other breast. His mouth pulled at her nipple, his tongue flicking at it, laving at it. Charlie buried her fingers in his hair, writhing, on fire. He gently grazed his teeth across the peak of her breast, then swirled his tongue around the dusky nub. Soon, he moved to the other breast, repeating the same exquisite torture with it.

By the time he brought his mouth back to Charlie's, her moans had grown louder, her need undeniable. He began to kiss her again, then brought his lips to her ear, tracing the delicate bones with his tongue. "Careful you don't wake up Face," he murmured before nibbling on the lobe.

Charlie squirmed, her body vibrating with the hum of desire. "Murdock, please…" she begged.

The sound all but destroyed Murdock's control. He groaned and stood for a moment, rapidly stepping out of his sweat pants. Charlie gasped at the sight of him naked and aroused. She greedily drank in his form, his trim hips giving way to long, powerful legs, balanced perfectly by the lean-muscled chest and arms she was now so familiar with. When her gaze fell upon his erection, she swallowed, excited, yet simultaneously nervous about whether or not she would be able to accommodate him, given what she was seeing in front of her.

Murdock moved back onto the bed again, engulfing her in his arms, drawing her into another heated kiss. As though reading her mind, he moved his lips from her mouth to her ear and whispered, "We'll fit perfectly, Charlie."

Grabbing his head and pulling him back to her for a deep kiss, she held tight as she eased herself back on the bed, bringing him with her. Their lips still sealed and searching, Murdock brought his hands to her waist, tugging gently at her pyjama pants. He looked down at her as he slid them off her hips, rewarded with a tiny pair of cotton panties decorated with little cartoon frogs. He bit back a smile. "Cute undies," he teased.

"Shut up," she flung back with a smirk.

Murdock hooked his thumbs into the band of her underwear, and slowly slid them down her long legs. When he reached her feet, he pulled the undergarment from her, and zealously sent it flying across the room. She giggled at the evident joy he took in the action.

Her mirth evaporated a second later, however, when Murdock's tongue began to trace a delicious trail up the inside of her leg. He moved slowly, Charlie arching and gasping in response. He reached the creamy, silky skin of her inner thigh, where he took his time, savouring the taste of her beneath his lips.

Charlie felt him push her legs apart with his hand, and when his fingers parted the flesh around the warm, moist place at her core, she nearly hit the ceiling. His capable fingers probed and searched, delving into her as she began to buck beneath his touch. She instinctively started to grind herself against his hand, desperate for a relief she couldn't even fathom.

Murdock brought one hand to her stomach, splaying his fingers across the smooth expanse and applying slight pressure to still her fevered movements. "Slow down," he said softly. "We've got all night."

"No, Murdock… I need…" Her plea trailed off; she was unable to even complete a thought as she was swallowed up by pleasure. She reached down and tangled her hands in Murdock's soft hair, moans of ecstasy tumbling from her lips.

Just when she was certain that she had reached the peak of arousal, Murdock took his hands from her and replaced them with his mouth. Charlie gasped with shock. She had never experienced this most intimate of acts before, and her initial reaction was one of embarrassment; she suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. It did not take long for the feeling to pass, however. With his lips and tongue, Murdock brought her to places she had never even imagined possible. He took his time, worshipping like a man at an altar, tasting her, sucking and nibbling and licking. The noises she made grew increasingly louder, her fingers twisting in Murdock's hair. "Oh my God, Murdock," she whimpered over and over. She felt like she was standing on the very edge of a towering cliff, teetering, on the brink of plunging into some endless abyss. "Murdock," she pleaded. "Please, Murdock, I need…" Again, she found herself incapable of finishing her sentence, wild for release.

Murdock finally brought his lips back to hers, on the verge of losing his own control. He positioned himself above her, and looked down at her, staring into her eyes as she returned his gaze. His lowered his mouth to hers and, at long last, thrust into her. He swallowed her moans as he began to move within her, his movements quickening as their mutual need grew. Charlie wrapped her legs around his hips, digging her fingernails into his back.

They moved together with an increasing frenzy, their pleasure reaching dizzying heights, their moans mingling together in a symphony of ecstasy.

They reached their climax simultaneously, an unimaginably powerful release that left both Charlie and Murdock entirely spent, their bodies shaking as they gasped for air. They lay joined for a time, both needing time to come back to earth.

Eventually, Murdock withdrew from Charlie as their senses returned, and slid his arms around her to hold her tight to him. She nuzzled into his chest, sighing contentedly. She looked up at him with a sensual smile and purred, "Oh Captain, my Captain."

Murdock chuckled, stroking Charlie's hair. "That's right, darlin'," he drawled. "I'm all yours."

It wasn't long until the fog of sleep descended on the couple, and they drifted off blissfully, wrapped in one another's arms.

*****

Charlie was the first to wake the next morning, and when she did, she felt sated and happy, warm and secure in the arms still holding her. Though she was loathe to leave the room and rejoin the rest of the world, she knew it must be nearly time for Hannibal and B.A. to arrive. She rolled to face the little bedside table to her right, where a small, old-fashioned clock told her it was just past eight. She sighed and slid from Murdock's grasp, moving around the room stark naked as she hunted for her discarded clothes.

Finally unearthing all three items of clothing, she dressed quietly, trying hard not to wake Murdock.

Despite her best efforts, however, Murdock slowly opened his eyes moments later, and looked around sleepily, trying to orient himself. "Where are you going?" he mumbled drowsily when he spotted Charlie. "Come back to bed."

Now fully dressed, Charlie bent down and smoothed Murdock's hair back from his face. She dropped a kiss on him and told him, "Hannibal and B.A. will be here soon."

"Let them get their own bed," Murdock scoffed, reaching up to pull Charlie back to him for a long kiss. It took mere seconds for their respective passions to flare, and Charlie pulled back from him, wanting to leave before she gave in to temptation. Her face still close to his, she whispered against his lips, "I gotta go make coffee."

Murdock pulled his most woeful, pathetic pout. "Aw," he whined.

Charlie rolled her eyes. "You should probably get dressed. B.A. has a hard enough time dealing with you when you've got clothes on." She reluctantly walked to the bedroom door.

Murdock appeared to mull this over. "Hmm… that might be fun…"

Charlie picked up a throw pillow resting on an armchair near the door and threw it at him. "Dressed. Now," she ordered, his laughter following her out of the room.

She moved down the short hallway, hearing a rush of water that told her that Face was in the shower. Her movements were a little stilted, her sore muscles a poignant reminder of the ecstasy she and Murdock had found with one another last night. She felt light, unable to stop smiling; the turmoil looming ahead of her felt suddenly conquerable. Still, she tried not to think too hard about what the previous evening meant in terms of the relationship she shared with Murdock.

Charlie flitted around the unfamiliar kitchen, scrounging up a coffee filter and a bag of fresh ground coffee beans. It wasn't long before the delicious aroma of coffee permeated the apartment. Charlie looked through several cupboards until she found a row of mugs, and had just pulled down a pair when a knock sounded at the door. She glanced up at an elaborate antique clock above the stove and furrowed her brow as she saw that it was 8:45 a.m. She assumed it must be Hannibal and B.A. at the door, arriving early. She walked to the living room, listening for the shower. The squeak of a faucet signalled the end of Face's shower, but she decided not to interrupt his morning routine, and padded to the front door.

When she first peered through the peephole, she saw no one, but then she looked down and saw a little boy with tousled blond hair; he couldn't have been more than ten years old. She removed the dead bolt, and swung the door open, her expression curious. "Hi there," she greeted the child. "What can I do for you?"

He looked shyly at his feet and thrust his arm out to her. In his pudgy little fingers he clutched a small package. Charlie crouched so that she was at the boy's eye-level, and gently took the package from him. "What's this?" she asked, completely confused.

The boy raised his chin, his wide blue eyes connecting with hers. "Man downstairs asked me to bring it to you," he said matter-of-factly.

Charlie frowned. "What man?" she queried.

The child shrugged. "I dunno." He puffed out his chest with pride, before continuing, saying, "But he gave me ten bucks to do it!"

Charlie felt a mounting fear nagging at her, but she carried on questioning the boy. "There's a few of us in here," she said lightly. "Do you know which one of us it's for?"

A broad grin appeared on the cherubic face in front of her. "Yes ma'am," he said, feeling very grown up. "It's for you! He said it was for a lady with red hair, and that's you!"

Charlie smiled, struggling to maintain a pleasant face even as bile rose in her throat. "Well, thank you young man," she said, holding out a free hand to shake his. The child placed his tiny hand in hers, and shook it with a very serious expression on his face, his expression making clear just how important he felt. Charlie grinned in spite of her worries, and said, "Just a minute." She dashed to the kitchen and grabbed a cookie jar she had come across earlier. She selected three cookies and wrapped them in a napkin, bringing them back to the boy. "These are for you, young man," she told him, placing the napkin-clad treats in his hand.

He peaked beneath the napkin, and his eyes lit up at the sight of his reward. "Thanks!" he chirped happily, then turned and ran down the hall. As he disappeared around a corner, Charlie realized she had forgotten to ask him how he'd gotten into the building in the first place.

Charlie closed the door and peered down at the white cardboard box she held. She held it to her ear, but heard nothing, and gave it a nervous shake. She could hear something thumping around inside as she moved the box up and down.

Finally, she took a deep breath, and brought her quivering fingers to the lid. She lifted it so slowly, it hardly seemed to move at all.

Murdock and Face were both emerging from their respective rooms, when a blood-curdling scream assailed their ears, and they set off at a dead run towards the living room.


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: Forgive the ridiculously long lag between chapters, Dear Reader; an astonishing pile of free-lance work came my way over the past few weeks. Here's hoping the next one won't have to wait so long!_

Charlie didn't look up when Face and Murdock dashed into the living room. She was slumped on the floor, her back against a wall. Her face was a startling pale, her eyes two huge saucers of terror. She clutched a slip of paper in a hand that was shaking uncontrollably.

Murdock was at her side in seconds, crouching next to her. "What is it? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" he demanded, his voice panicked. Seeing no obvious signs of physical harm on her front, he put a hand behind her shoulders and pulled her body forward enough to check her back for the same. He was relieved to find no evidence of bodily harm, and he cradled her head in his hands and turned her face until she was looking directly into his eyes. "Charlie," he prompted, speaking slowly. "What happened? Tell me, sweetheart."

Charlie finally managed to focus her attention on the concerned face she was staring into. She wordlessly held out the piece of paper she was clutching, offering it to Murdock, her hand trembling.

As she did so, Face picked up a white box he had spotted on the apartment floor. He opened it and peeked inside. He jumped when he saw the contents of the box, yelping, "Jesus Christ!" and looking suddenly nauseous.

Murdock whipped his head around to look at Face. "What?" he nearly shouted. "What is it?"

Face was quick to hand the box to Murdock. "It's…" Face began uncertainly. He hesitated before finishing with, "It's… an ear."

Murdock frowned, reaching for the box Face held out to him. "What do you mean, it's an-" His voice froze in his throat as he finally looked in the box. Nestled in several sheets of tissue paper soaked with blood, was a small, pinkish ear. The part of the ear normally attached to one's head was a jagged, raw edge, suggesting the ear had not been carefully removed, but rather hacked off. "Oh my God," he muttered, stunned. "It's an actual ear."

Reeling, Murdock grabbed the piece of paper Charlie was holding in her hand and read it out loud to Face:

_Dearest Charlie,_

_I said to your father, "lend me your ears!," but as you can see, he wasn't all that interested in sharing, so I just went ahead and took one. If you ever want to see Daddy Dearest alive again, all you've got to do is one simple thing: don't testify against me at my trial next week. I've also got some very important rules: you don't show up, Dad dies. You call the cops or involve the cops in any way, Dad dies. You skip town, Dad dies. As long as you follow my instructions though, Dad walks away, free and clear, and just a little hard of hearing. Don't fuck with me, Charlie – you know I'm not bluffing. See you soon!_

_Love, Rick._

"Oh my God." Murdock's face had turned a shade of pale almost as ashen as Charlie's. "Charlie, this guy is pure evil." His voice was a mixture of fury and horror. He immediately wrapped his arms around Charlie, stroking her hair as she buried her face into his chest.

"Damnit," seethed Face. "This is bad, Murdock. This is really bad." Something stuck to the inside of the box's lid suddenly caught his eye, and he crouched to pick it up. He inspected the lid, swearing under his breath when he realized what he was looking at. "Murdock," he said flatly, passing the discovery to his friend.

Murdock took the lid from Face and looked at the underside of it. A Polaroid was taped to the inside. Murdock peeled it off and inspected it. In a dingy room with yellowed walls, Charlie's father was sitting, tied to a cheap, plastic chair. The background had a decidedly industrial appearance, with exposed beams and air ducts visible above Charlie's father, and a wall that was only half dry-walled behind him. One of his ears, or more accurately, the place where one of his ears should have been, had gauze taped over it; the gauze was clearly saturated with blood. Charlie's father was holding up a newspaper for the camera. Murdock squinted to read the date in the paper, the looked up at Face. "This was taken yesterday," he said.

"I know," said Face. The lieutenant squatted so that he was at eye-level with Charlie and Murdock. "Charlie, do you recognize the room where this picture was taken?" he asked gently.

Charlie shook her head. "I don't think so. Rick knew of quite a few abandoned old warehouses that he used to meet suppliers in. Could be any of 'em." Her voice wavered unsteadily as she spoke. Murdock tightened his arms around Charlie.

"How would Rick have known to look for your Dad in Montana?" Face wanted to know.

"Rick met him once or twice when we were dating. We went back to Montana for Thanksgiving once."

"I bet Trent grabbed her dad as soon as he got free from the duct tape," Murdock spat. "I'm thinking Trent knew that if he called Rick and said he'd lost Charlie, he'd be in for a world of pain. Trent must've grabbed Charlie's dad to save his own ass from Rick."

"Yeah, but how did they get him here so fast?" Face asked, his brow furrowing.

"He's got a small plane," Charlie offered.

"Your dad?" Murdock asked with surprise.

"No, Rick," Charlie corrected him. "Drugs are a lucrative business."

"Evidently," remarked Face dryly.

A sharp knock sounded at the door, causing all three people in the apartment to jump. Murdock instinctively reached for his gun, and realized he wasn't wearing the jacket he kept it in. "Got a piece?" he asked Face with an urgent whisper.

Face nodded and stood slowly, grabbing a pistol out of a drawer in a nearby end table. He moved without sound to the door and peeked through the peephole. His shoulders sagged with relief once he saw who it was. "It's just Hannibal and B.A.," he said to Charlie and Murdock as he unlocked the door, and greeted the two men.

"**Just** Hannibal and B.A.?" Hannibal scoffed indignantly. "I'll have you know, most people feel that I'm-" He stopped short when he noticed Charlie and Murdock huddled together on the floor. "What is it? What's happened?" He immediately wanted to know.

Face waved in B.A. and Hannibal, then quickly filled them in on what had happened. B.A. recoiled when Face showed both new arrivals the box with the ear in it.

"An **ear**, Hannibal?!" the sergeant squawked. "This dude's crazy!"

Hannibal drew a cigar from the breast pocket of his shirt, and lit it as he puffed thoughtfully. "I think that's pretty clear, B.A.," he concurred. "Charlie, where'd the box come from?"

"A little boy brought it up," Charlie responded from her position on the floor. "I thought it was you two when the boy knocked," she said, nodding in the direction of B.A. and Hannibal. "When I looked out the peephole and saw a little boy, I figured it would be safe to open the door."

"How'd the kid get the box?" Hannibal inquired.

"He said a man paid him ten dollars to bring it to this apartment. Whoever paid him had to know we'd never open the door to a strange adult." Charlie sighed. "But who wouldn't open the door for a kid?"

Hannibal took a long haul on his cigar. "So now this guy's using kids to do his work. What an A-1 slimeball," he spat with disgust. "I think the more pressing question, though, is how did Rick know where you were?"

Charlie shook her head. "I have no idea. I've been trying to figure that out myself. You guys are the only ones who know."

Murdock frowned in thought as he tried to come up with a feasible explanation for Rick's knowledge of their location. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "I bet Trent stuck a tracker to the van. We left him taped to a chair when we took off, but maybe he stuck something to the van before he came in the house, just in case."

"I can't believe that idiot had foresight," Charlie muttered, shaking her head.

"B.A.," Hannibal began, but the sergeant was already halfway out the door, on his way to the parking garage.

"I'm on it," he tossed over his shoulder as he headed for the elevator.

Charlie finally got to her feet, accompanied by Murdock, who slipped a supportive arm around her waist as she stood. Face and Hannibal exchanged a knowing glance.

Charlie cleared her throat, suddenly determined not to allow herself to slip into the role of victim. "I managed to get a pot of coffee started before the kid showed up. Can I interest any of you fine gentlemen in a cup?" She struggled to keep her voice light.

Both Hannibal and Face took her up on her offer, sensing her need not to be doted on. She disappeared into the kitchen, and a few minutes later, rejoined the men on the pair of couches in the living room, where she passed out mugs. Even just the familiar smell of coffee made her feel slightly calmer.

B.A. returned to the apartment several minutes later, passing a small, metal disk to Hannibal as he sat down. "Stuck under the front bumper," he growled to the older man.

"Damnit." A clear look of self-disgust slipped over Murdock's face. "Hannibal, I'm so sorry. I don't know how I missed checking for it."

Hannibal held up a hand before Murdock could offer any more apologies. "Wasn't your fault, Captain," Hannibal told him. "You couldn't have known."

Murdock didn't look especially convinced by Hannibal's words, but nodded anyway.

"So what now, Hannibal?" Face asked.

The end of Hannibal's cigar flared red as he puffed away. "Well, first things first. We gotta get out of here."

Charlie instantly looked frightened. "But he'll kill my dad!" she protested.

"Honey," Hannibal replied, his voice dropping slightly to a more soothing timbre, "the enemy knows where we are and we have no idea where he is. It's a dangerous setup. We stay here, Rick could change his mind about waiting and come after us whenever he wants."

"We'd never sleep," Face added. "One of us would be on guard twenty-four hours a day."

Hannibal bobbed his head in agreement with his team mate. "And if he does show up, this place doesn't even have a second exit should we need to retreat. We'd be sitting ducks."

Charlie looked from Hannibal to Face. She swallowed and reminded herself that these men knew what they were doing. "Okay," she finally conceded. "I trust you guys."

"Although," Murdock began, "this place is so small, me and B.A. would get to spend an awful lot of quality time together…" He stroked at an imaginary beard and feigned deep thought.

B.A. grimaced. "Hannibal, we gotta get outta here."

Hannibal smiled a winning smile. "Excellent. Now, the sleaze who left the tracker doesn't know it, but he's done us a huge favour."

Four sets of eyebrows shot up.

Hannibal clearly found great amusement in being the cause for the surprised reaction. "See, we're gonna leave this tracker in the garage, so Rick will think we're all still here, at least for a while."

Face's voice held great admiration as he looked over at Hannibal and remarked, "Very clever, Colonel."

"I know," Hannibal responded, without a shred of modesty.

"And where is it we're going?" Murdock inquired.

Hannibal looked quite proud of himself. "Ah, that's the best part." He took a healthy drag on his cigar before continuing. "See, we've been filming this new Gatorella movie up near the lake. It's called, _You Can Lead a Monster to Water._" He paused to shift his focus to Charlie. "It's a great picture, Charlie. I think it's a real chance for development of the Gatorella character. For example, in this one, I've been playing her as a monster who is really missing companionship. I mean, because she's a monster, Gatorella really has to deal with a lot of isolation, but I'm using subtle movements to convey her need to-"

Face cleared his throat, cutting off Hannibal's tangent. "Hannibal?"

The Colonel scowled at Face, looking as if he might reprimand the Lieutenant for interrupting, then appeared to think better of it, and turned back to address the group as a whole.

"At any rate," he went on, "the studio rented out this little cabin property to use as a set. Now, because I do such professional, high-quality work, filming wrapped early. And luckily for us, the production company had already paid in advance for the full month's rental of the place."

Face nodded, pleasantly surprised. "Ah, so now there's a lonely little cabin that no one knows about, and it's just begging to become our command centre."

"Nice job, Hannibal!" Murdock exclaimed.

"Yes, I thought so," the Colonel concurred, beaming. He stood, and with great melodrama declared, "So kids, pack up your bags – our castle awaits!"

*****

After a quick stop at B.A.'s place to pick up some tools, and a grocery store supply run, Charlie and the team were on their way to the empty cabin. The car ride bore many of the same characteristics as dinner had the previous evening. Hannibal and Face eagerly told Charlie some of their more colourful stories, while Murdock pushed as many of B.A.'s buttons as he could, and B.A. retaliated with threats of violence that Charlie knew now would never actually come to pass. The boisterous banter made Charlie realize just how lonely she had been throughout her relationship with Rick, and just how little joy she had experienced over the past few years.

As Charlie and the team neared their destination, houses gradually gave way to trees, and the road beneath the van transitioned first to gravel, and eventually, to dirt. After what seemed like a remarkably short drive to Charlie, the cabin Hannibal was directing them to rose into sight. It was much bigger than Charlie had imagined, with several bedrooms jutting out, and a wide, rustic porch wrapping around the structure. Enormous evergreens reached towards the sky on all sides around the cabin, their majesty mimicked by the stout, thick logs and earthen chinking the cabin had been constructed with.

"Hannibal, this place is beautiful," she remarked, clearly impressed.

"Glad you like it," Hannibal returned with a wink in Charlie's direction.

B.A. turned the van into an exceptionally lengthy driveway made of gravel, and they rumbled along for some time before finally reaching the house.

The quintet piled out of the vehicle, and Face and Murdock dashed to the house like children, racing each other for first pick of the bedrooms after Murdock announced to Face that he called dibs on the best room, whichever one that happened to be.

Hannibal rolled his eyes, while B.A. muttered, "Crazy fool."

Hannibal, B.A., and Charlie opted for the more reasonable action of unloading gear from the van. The sergeant grabbed all five duffle bags in one meaty hand and effortlessly brought them inside the cabin. Charlie grabbed as many grocery bags as she could, and followed B.A., while Hannibal unlocked the gun chest in the trunk and selected several automatic weapons to bring inside.

The front door of the cabin opened into a spacious room, dressed as a living room on the left, and a small kitchen and dining area on the right. Charlie had just stepped inside when Murdock and Face emerged from two separate rooms near the back of the cabin; they turned and headed in her direction.

"You boys get everything figured out?" she asked wryly.

Face graced her with a wide smile. "Turns out, we both wanted different rooms."

Murdock jerked a thumb at Face, and said, "Can you believe this guy didn't want the room with bunk beds, Charlie?"

Charlie blinked in surprise a few times and shook her head. She had to admit, she was finding Murdock's shenanigans increasingly charming. "Wow, I can't believe you passed up bunk beds, Face," she told the lieutenant dryly.

"I must be crazy," he returned, his voice laden with sarcasm.

Murdock stepped forward and relieved Charlie of several grocery bags, and they walked to the kitchen to put their food stock away. As they worked in unison, Murdock tossed out, "So Charlie, you want the top bunk or the bottom?"

Hannibal spoke up before Charlie could reply. "Actually, Captain, I think it would be better if you bunked with B.A."

Charlie smiled, her initial thought being that Hannibal was joking to get a rise out of B.A. Her smile quickly vanished however as she saw Murdock stiffen slightly, and realized the Colonel was serious.

Meanwhile, B.A. screeched almost immediately from the other side of the room. "**What?!** Hannibal, I don't wanna share a room with this crazy fool!"

Hannibal was unflinching. "Sorry, B.A., but you're just gonna have to take one for the team here."

Murdock had turned to face Hannibal, and was now staring at him. The younger man wore an inscrutable expression. "Why is it better for me to share a room with B.A.?" he asked guardedly.

Hannibal looked carefully at the pilot. "Murdock, I promise we'll discuss this later. Right now, we've got bigger fish to fry."

Silence reigned for a few moments as Murdock appeared to be weighing his options in terms of how he wanted to react. Finally, he gave Hannibal a mere nod, and returned to the grocery task at hand.

*****

Gathered around the kitchen table that afternoon, Charlie felt like she was sitting in one of those war rooms she had seen so many times in old black-and-white movies. The only thing missing was the plastic pieces she had seen movie generals push around on a giant map with some kind of shuffleboard apparatus, where the man in charge would move the pieces around to demonstrate how his plan would play out.

B.A. had produced a huge, detailed map of Los Angeles from the glove compartment in the van, and it was now spread out, covering the whole kitchen table.

Hannibal handed a black ink pen to Charlie. "Okay kiddo, I need you to mark off on here every hangout Rick could possibly be at, and more importantly, any warehouses you know that Rick's used in the past for dealing. I'd bet every cigar I've ever smoked that your dad's being held in one of 'em."

Charlie nodded vigorously. "Yeah, looking at the background of that picture he sent us, I'm sure he's stashed my dad in one of them."

"Good," Hannibal asserted, once again puffing on a cigar. "That puts us one step ahead of the sleaze." He then looked meaningfully around the table. "Gentlemen," he began. Charlie cleared her throat pointedly. "…and lady," Hannibal was quick to add. "We've got a luxury here we rarely get: time. That means we get time to execute a foolproof plan: I want to know every detail of where Charlie's dad is being kept, I wanna know entrances, exits, vantage points. We're gonna make this low-life play by our rules, instead of the other way around."

"This sucker's going down, Hannibal," B.A. growled.

Hannibal responded to the assertion with a smile rife with pride. "He most certainly is," he confirmed. "But first things first. Murdock, you and I need to establish a perimeter; we'll set up a bunch of trip wires, so we'll know if anyone decides to take a stroll onto the property."

Murdock promptly nodded, then stood. "Roger."

The Colonel then turned to Face. "Lieutenant, I'd really like to add some aerial power to this assault, so you need to scam us a bird. Get thinking."

Charlie looked up from the map, the pen ceasing its movements. "Actually, I know where we can get a helicopter," she offered.

In near-perfect unison, Hannibal and Face both blurted, "Really?!"

Amused by how utterly baffled the two men looked, Charlie giggled, before replying, "An old friend of mine can hook us up. Her dad was in international real estate, and got sick of flying everywhere commercial, so he got a little plane for himself. He loved having his own plane so much, he wound up with the hobby of buying junkers and fixing them up."

"Ah, so we'll be fixing up one of these junkers?" Face surmised.

"I'm guessing yes," Charlie confirmed. "Even if he's got a fully repaired one, he would never let Vivian loan it out."

Hannibal mulled the development over. "Can you trust this girl?" he finally asked.

Charlie nodded vigorously. "Absolutely," she returned with whole-hearted certainty. "We've known each other since we were kids; she'd never put me, and subsequently, you guys, in danger."

Murdock cast a glance at Hannibal. "So, whaddya think?" he asked after a lengthy silence.

Smoke plumed and floated away above Hannibal's head. "I think it's a good course of action," he eventually declared.

"Right. I'll call her as soon as I'm done here," Charlie announced.

Hannibal scribbled an address on a napkin and handed it to Charlie. "Tell your friend to be at this address tomorrow at eleven in the morning. She needs to speak to a man named 'Mr. Lee' when she gets there," Hannibal instructed Charlie; the man in question was an elderly Chinese man the Colonel typically posed as for initial meetings with potential clients. Seeing that Charlie was frowning, Hannibal was quick to explain, "I'm not so much worried about her personally causing trouble for us, but we gotta make sure she's not being tailed by any of Rick's flunkies, or the military." Hannibal looked around the table, then rose from his chair. "Alright, let's go set up those trip wires, Murdock."

"And B.A. and I?" Face inquired eagerly.

"Sounds like we'll need some equipment to fix this chopper. When Charlie calls her friend, see if the girl can give us a basic list of what we'll need to get the chopper going, then take the van into town and scam the goods." When Face nodded, Hannibal shifted his gaze to B.A. "Sergeant, I want you to rig up a small camera for recording, and a transmitter that'll let us monitor the camera feed from here. The crew stashed some malfunctioning equipment in a shed out back, figuring the studio could pick it up later. I'm sure you can use whatever is there to make what we need."

"You got it, Hannibal." B.A.'s voice was one of clear determination.

Hannibal looked at the faces of his team, pleased by the conviction and confidence he saw reflected back to him. "Right, let's do it, guys," he declared.

As each man went off to complete his assigned task, Charlie had no doubt she was in some exceptionally capable hands.

*****

Hannibal and Murdock made quick work of establishing a perimeter, easily conquering the dense forest surrounding their newly acquired command centre. Between their service in the army together and their work together as the A-Team, the two men moved swiftly with a natural synergy.

It wasn't long before Hannibal rigged the last trip wire. "That should do it," he proclaimed.

Murdock cast a sidelong glance at the colonel. "And just in time, Hannibal; I think I spotted a white elephant trailing us."

Hannibal smiled wanly. "Alright, fair enough." He pulled a cigar from his breast pocket. He surveyed their surroundings for a place to sit and spotted a felled tree. He pointed it out to Murdock, and the two of them walked to it and sat on the makeshift bench created by the thick, horizontal trunk.

"So what is it, Hannibal?" Murdock began. "Do you not like her?"

"No, Murdock, it's nothing like that," Hannibal quickly reassured the pilot. "I actually think she's pretty great… you know, for a girl." Hannibal flashed a grin in an attempt to assuage Murdock's concern.

Murdock furrowed his brow. "Okay, so what's the problem?"

Hannibal took a haul off of his cigar and sighed. "Do you know why we have a rule about never dating clients?"

"Yeah, of course. Dating a client clouds your judgement during the job."

"Right," Hannibal confirmed. "And the team is helping Charlie with a problem, so for the time being, she's a client."

"But, Hannibal-" Murdock started to protest, but Hannibal cut him off.

"Murdock, I don't know what's going on with you and Charlie, but it's pretty obvious that something is." Hannibal paused, giving Murdock the opportunity to answer the unasked question that hung in the air.

Murdock stared sightlessly at the horizon, and remained silent.

Again, Hannibal sighed. "Alright, so whatever is going on with you two has to be put on hold. If you're distracted or not thinking objectively, it puts the team at risk, and we risk blowing the mission."

Murdock lifted his navy blue baseball cap slightly and ran a frustrated hand though his hair, then tugged the cap back into place. He took a minute to consider Hannibal's words. Tense seconds ticked by. The fact that he was even considering arguing with Hannibal about the order being given was entirely foreign to Murdock. These men, men who were his friends, his fellow soldiers, his family, had been his top priority from the moment they'd gotten back to camp after that fateful bank job in Hanoi. The notion that he was leaning towards making Charlie a priority over the team left Murdock feeling thoroughly unsettled.

Hannibal could practically see the gears turning in Murdock's head. Not surprisingly, Hannibal ran out of patience before Murdock ran out of thoughts. "So, are we clear?" he finally asked.

Murdock ultimately concluded that the Colonel was right, and nodded slowly. "We're clear, Hannibal," he confirmed, and threw in a smile to reassure Hannibal that he held no anger about the decision.

"Beautiful, Captain." Hannibal stood. "You want to tell Charlie, or should I?"

Murdock held up a hand as he shook his head. "I'd better do it."

Smoke escaped Hannibal's lips as he exhaled. "Good." He clapped a hand against Murdock's back, and they set out for the cabin.

*****

Charlie rolled over and looked at the clock above the mantle in the living room. From the pull-out couch she'd been tossing and turning in for hours, she could see that the clock read a few minutes past two o'clock in the morning. She groaned, frustrated by her inability to sleep. Even though she had only shared a bed with Murdock twice, she discovered that sleep was now nearly impossible for her without his arms around her, and his warmth beside her.

When Hannibal and Murdock had returned from their trip-wire task earlier that day, Murdock had taken Charlie out to the front porch and relayed Hannibal's command that Charlie and Murdock maintain an A-team-client relationship for the duration of the mission. Though Charlie had felt terribly unhappy about the order, she knew where Hannibal was coming from, and had to admit that his reasoning was sound. She had no desire to come between Murdock and his team, and couldn't bear the thought of putting any of them in danger. Besides, she had told herself, there was no point in developing her relationship with Murdock further, given that once the mission was over, Murdock would return to the V.A., and she would return to her very lonely life. This neutralizing of their relationship was probably for the best.

Charlie eventually gave up her attempt to sleep, and decided to get up. She opted to go sit on the porch, reasoning that perhaps the cool night air might make her drowsy. As she walked to the front door, she passed Hannibal's jacket on a nearby hook. Impulsively, she reached into an inside pocket of the garment and withdrew a cigar, hoping the Colonel wouldn't mind too much. She then moved to open the front door. As she stepped out, she was surprised to see a familiar pair of Converse sneakers propped up on the porch railing.

Murdock's lanky form reclined in a weathered Adirondack chair, and the faint tones of music emanated from a small radio that sat on a little table between Murdock's chair and another identical chair. He sported his now-familiar navy blue sweatpants, and a green t-shirt with a picture of a very stern-looking Smokey the Bear splashed across it. Charlie couldn't help but notice the shadow of stubble that darkened his face, and wasn't entirely sure why she found it so very attractive. Murdock's eyebrows shot up when Charlie appeared next to him. "Darlin', what are you doing out here?" he asked, mildly concerned.

"Couldn't sleep," she explained with a sigh.

Murdock nodded with understanding. "Yeah, me neither." He noticed she was concealing something behind her back. "What's in your hand?" he asked, frowning.

Charlie's face flushed a little, as she sheepishly brought forth the cigar she had pilfered.

Murdock chuckled. "Getting a little revenge?"

"Oh, no, no," Charlie was quick to correct him, shaking her head. She plopped down into the second chair and turned to face Murdock. "Fenlon and I didn't get to see one another all that often, so when we did, it was kind of a special thing. And we had this tradition where we'd share a big stogie between us while we got caught up." She bit the end off the cigar and took out a book of matches she'd thought to grab from Hannibal's coat too. "Figured it might help me feel a little more…" She paused thoughtfully, then continued. "Peaceful, I guess."

"Peaceful is good," Murdock remarked with a grin.

Charlie dragged the match across the flint on the matchbook, and watched as it flared to life. She lit the cigar, shook out the match, and took a long pull. Then she turned and held the cigar out to Murdock. "Wanna share?"

Murdock feigned horror. "Are you kidding?" he gasped melodramatically. "I don't know where your mouth has been!" He paused, then a sly smile grew on his face. "Oh, wait, yes I do."

Charlie blushed furiously. Choosing to ignore the blatant innuendo, she shook the cigar a little with her outstretched hand. "Are you in or not?"

"In," the pilot said with firm certainty, taking the cigar from Charlie's fingers.

A comfortable silence descended on the couple. The grounds surrounding them were bathed in silvery-blue light the moon was casting. The sounds of the night enveloped them, serenading them with the ceaseless chirps of crickets, a mild wind rustling the leaves of thousands of trees, the crackle of twigs underneath the feet of nocturnal animals moving through the night. The world had taken on an ethereal quality, and Charlie and Murdock revelled in the effect as they wordlessly passed the cigar back and forth between themselves.

All too soon, the cigar was reduced to a stub. Murdock snuffed it out on the floor of the porch and rested it on the table for later cleanup.

Charlie became aware of the fact that the radio was still playing softly just as the DJ introduced Led Zeppelin's "Fool in the Rain." She sighed contentedly. "Oh my God, I love this song. One of my favourites." She reached out and twisted the volume up slightly, then leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes as the song's familiar opening chords reached her ears. A faint smile appeared on her face.

Watching her, light from the moon caressing her face, her dishevelled hair tumbling around her shoulders, Murdock decided that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life. He suspected he could stare at her for the rest of his days, and it still would never be enough. He stood slowly.

Hearing him rise, Charlie opened her eyes to see where he was going. She found him standing in front of her, offering her his hand.

"Do you think Hannibal would be mad if an A-team member just **danced** with a client?" Murdock asked, smiling mischievously.

Almost instantaneously, Charlie flashed a dazzling smile. "Oh, absolutely," she said, then placed her hand in Murdock's and stood.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her close, compassionate brown eyes staring down into expressive blue ones. Charlie slid one arm over Murdock's shoulder, and around behind his neck. They interlaced the fingers of their free hands, raising them into the traditional dance position. Charlie continued to look into Murdock's eyes, and they smiled at one another. Murdock tightened his hold.

Feeling a depth of emotion she wasn't quite ready to explore, Charlie closed her eyes and rested her head on Murdock's chest, hearing his heart beat beneath her ear. They swayed slowly together, maintaining their unhurried pace even as the song shifted into its frenetic Calypso section. Wrapped in his arms, the world outside the couple disappeared for Charlie until all that remained was herself and her Captain. She pushed all thoughts about what would happen to them after the trial aside, and concentrated on the sheer bliss she felt in the present moment.

Murdock looked down at Charlie, marvelling at the seamless way her form fit to his. He was suddenly finding it very difficult to remember what his life had been like before she'd walked into it. He didn't have a name for what he felt for Charlie, but whatever it was, he felt it from the roots of his hair to the soles of his feet. Her eyes were closed, and a dreamy smile played about her lips; the effect was almost angelic.

She must have sensed his eyes on her, because she slowly opened hers and looked up at him. Their faces were now so close, she could feel his warm breath on her lips. For long moments, neither could bring themselves to pull away from the other. Images of their passionate night together flashed unbidden through each of their minds, as they struggled to fight an especially insistent bout of temptation.

It was Charlie who finally brought them both crashing back to reality. Never taking her eyes from Murdock's, her tone almost apologetic, she said softly, "I think we should probably try to get some sleep now." Suddenly recognizing the possibility of misunderstanding inherent to her words, she quickly added, "Separately. Really separately."

Though his disappointment was obvious, Murdock conceded, "I know."

With great reluctance, the pair finally separated. Charlie moved slowly to the front door, while Murdock returned to his position in the chair he had occupied earlier. Charlie furrowed her brow. "Aren't you going to bed?" she asked.

Murdock grinned in response to her query, then explained, "I'm going to need a bit of time to … cool down before I can sleep."

Charlie nodded with a tiny smile, feeling the same need to 'cool down' herself. "'Night, Murdock," she offered, as she opened the door.

Murdock sighed and tried to keep any sadness from his tone. "'Night, Charlie," he returned, before Charlie disappeared into the house.

*****

Charlie had never been anything even close to a morning person, but waking up to breakfast with the A-team made the early hours infinitely more enjoyable. The scent of coffee and pancakes had roused her from what little sleep she'd gotten, and she quickly clambered out of bed, feeling instantly ravenous.

When she padded into the kitchen, she was mildly surprised to find Murdock standing over the stove, merrily flipping pancakes. He sported a neon pink apron that was embellished with the words, _Go Ahead, Make My Soufflé_.Hannibal and B.A. were already seated at the kitchen table. Charlie made a beeline for the deliciously aromatic coffee percolating next to the stove. "Morning guys," she said with a yawn, looking back at Hannibal and B.A., who were both already dressed for the day.

Murdock turned with a lazy smile on his face and drawled, "Morning, darlin'." For some reason, Charlie found the combination of the term of endearment and the Texas twang unbelievably sexy. She quickly busied herself opening cupboards to look for a mug. She selected the biggest one she could find, and, grabbing the coffee pot, filled the mug to the brim. She wandered to the table and settled into the chair beside B.A., then leaned back comfortably, gripping the steaming mug with both hands. "Where's Face?" she asked.

The pilot turned from the stove and replied, "He'll be out in a minute." Charlie scrutinized Murdock's face carefully. He had a decidedly devilish look in his eyes. She was about to ask him what he was up to, when Face entered the room. His blond hair stuck out in all directions, and he was still wearing his blue-and-white striped cotton pyjama pants, in addition to a flimsy undershirt. As the Lieutenant approached the table, Charlie saw immediately what Murdock had been looking so mischievous about, and instantly began biting her lip to keep from laughing.

In a thick, dark, black line which Charlie suspected was the work of her eyeliner, an incredibly prominent, exaggerated handlebar moustache was drawn above Face's upper-lip. It curled up in ridiculous spirals at either end. She figured Murdock must have drawn it on as Face slept.

"Everything alright, Charlie?" Face was looking decidedly perplexed.

Charlie realized she was staring at him with her mouth slightly agape, and she tried desperately not to burst out into hysterical laughter as she quickly replied, "No, no… everything's fine." Then, unable to help herself, she added, "…Senõr."

It was fortunate for Murdock that Face had taken a seat with his back to the stove, because had Face chosen otherwise, he would have seen Murdock clap a hand over his mouth and double over with laughter.

Face looked quizzically at Charlie for a minute, then turned his attention to Hannibal, who had yet to look up from the newspaper he was reading. "Pass me the business section, Hannibal?" Face asked.

"Sure," returned Hannibal. He shuffled through the sections of the paper, pulling out the one Face had requested. He handed it to Face, at which point he finally looked up. The Colonel immediately turned his eyes to Murdock, who was grinning like an idiot as he returned Hannibal's gaze. The older man bit back a smile as he tried to decide if he should let the Lieutenant know about his "makeover" or not.

Face frowned as he noted Hannibal's expression, growing increasingly suspicious. "Hannibal?" he asked with a hint of annoyance. "Is there something you guys aren't telling me?"

Hannibal finally decided his team could use a little silliness, given the severity of the situation they were about to take on. "Nope," he replied smoothly, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

Face looked shrewdly at Hannibal, then at Charlie. "Okay," he said at last, speaking slowly, before opening up the section of newspaper Hannibal had handed him.

B.A. was the last to notice Face's new look, and after a quick, characteristic, high-pitched giggle, he immediately moved to open his mouth, but was quickly silenced by a stern look and a head shake from Hannibal.

It wasn't long before Murdock brought breakfast to the group assembled around the table; he somehow managed to juggle five plates, each piled high with pancakes, and make it to the table, all in one perilous trip. "Alright soldiers," he announced triumphantly as he began setting down plates. "Chow down!"

Charlie watched with amusement as the four men attacked the food in front of them, devouring the meal in a flurry of silverware and syrup. She almost felt silly eating like a reasonable human being.

"This is top-notch work, Captain," Hannibal managed to get out between bites.

Murdock beamed. "Thanks, Hannibal." He then turned to the Lieutenant, and struggled to keep a straight face as he said, "Hey, Facey, I was thinking I might cook dinner for you guys tonight. How do you feel about… ess-spicy meat-uh-balls?"

Charlie brought her napkin up to cover her mouth in a flash, unable to keep a sober expression on her face in the wake of the ridiculous, exaggerated Italian accent Murdock used to voice the last part of the question.

Face cast a sidelong look at Murdock. "Uh, fine, I guess," he said, eyes narrowed. "Murdock, you been outta the V.A. too long or something? You seem crazier than usual."  
Murdock shrugged, using every fibre of self-control he had to keep from laughing hysterically. "Maybe!" he said brightly.

Having composed herself, Charlie cleared her throat, and tried to resume some sense of normalcy. "So, what's on the agenda today, Hannibal?" she asked.

"Good question, my dear," Hannibal returned through a mouthful of pancakes, looking over at Charlie. He paused long enough to swallow and took a swipe at his face with a napkin. "First off, your friend Vivian will be meeting with Mr. Lee," Hannibal began. "Then, I'll have to send her to a couple different spots around the city. Normally that happens over quite a long period of time, but we don't have much time to spare, so she gets the express route," Hannibal explained. "Meanwhile, B.A., you got that camera ready?"

B.A. stopped inhaling his meal long enough to nod firmly. "Ready, Hannibal."

"Excellent," Hannibal said with a great deal of satisfaction. "So B.A., you're gonna rig that camera in the parking garage so we can see the spot the van used to be in. We'll transmit the feed back here, and with any luck, we'll be able to see if and when Rick figures out the van is no longer with his bug."

Charlie raised her eyebrows. "I'm impressed," she said with sincerity.

"We're just getting started, sweetheart." Hannibal shovelled another mouthful of food into his mouth, then continued. "Face, once B.A. finishes with the camera, you and he are going to start checking out some of the places Charlie mapped out. This is strictly fact-finding, Lieutenant," he cautioned. "No fights just yet."

Face rolled his eyes. "Hannibal, do I **ever** pick fights? I like avoiding fights. I like not having my face all battered and bruised. It's **you **who likes throwing me into fights, remember?"

Hannibal smiled. "Oh, right," he returned, unrepentant.

"So, you want me to go with Face and B.A.?" Murdock queried.

Hannibal shook his head. "Can't. Trent saw you, so chances are, anyone working with this scumbag probably has a pretty good description of you. They see you poking around, they'll go after you."

Murdock frowned. "So, what am I doing?"

Hannibal sighed. "I'm not exactly thrilled about it, but for now, you're staying here with Charlie. You can do recon once we get airborne, but for today, you'll be right here. Besides," he added, "someone needs to protect Charlie, and someone needs to be here to confirm that the feed is transmitting right, once B.A. sets things up."

Though he felt a little disappointed that he would be missing out on the day's action, Murdock could think of lots of things that were worse than being stuck in a secluded cabin alone with Charlie.

Charlie watched Murdock nod, and as he shifted his gaze to Charlie, she was fairly sure she caught a glimpse of heat flaring in his eyes. She swallowed and felt her heartbeat quicken slightly.

Hannibal cleared his throat to get Murdock's attention. "After all, the A-team would do the same for any **client**," he offered pointedly, his warning blatantly obvious.

The remains of breakfast quickly disappeared off of each plate, and B.A., Hannibal, and Face all stood.

"Is this just straight snooping around, or do I need a disguise to do some conning undercover, Hannibal?" Face inquired.

"Ah, you can just use that charming face of your, Lieutenant," Hannibal responded, producing a cigar from somewhere on his person and lighting it. "Go get ready, and we'll head out."

Murdock couldn't resist one more comment, knowing Face would finally be coming in contact with a mirror in about thirty seconds. "You know, Faceman, I bet you'd do real well if you dressed up like an old-time villain who ties damsels to train tracks."

Face wheeled towards Murdock. "For God's sake, Murdock, maybe you should pop back in to the V.A. later today." He glanced over at Hannibal, who was in the process of clamping his teeth together as tightly as he could to keep from laughing. "I'm telling you, Hannibal, he gets crazier every day!" Clearly exasperated, Face turned and walked down the hall, where he entered the bathroom.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Charlie doubled over laughing, tears streaming down her face, and Hannibal raised his arm and looked at his watch. "3 … 2… 1," he counted off.

The number 'one' had just left Hannibal's mouth when an anguished scream at top volume erupted from the bathroom and filled the cabin.

"**Murdock!"**

*****

The moment the door closed behind the three departing team members, Charlie and Murdock simultaneously began looking for distractions from one another, desperate to occupy their minds with any menial task that would keep them from focusing on the obvious electricity between them.

The end result found Murdock up to his elbows in dishwashing bubbles, and Charlie wielding a dish towel, as they tackled the breakfast mess. Both were forced to devote quite a bit of their mental faculties to chasing tempting impulses from their thoughts, causing strained conversation initially. Fortunately, the pair slipped into a comfortable rhythm before long, and were soon thoroughly enjoying one another's company.

"So, what's your friend like?" Murdock asked amiably.

Charlie pursed her lips and thought for a moment before replying. "Well, she's… she's pretty much the opposite of me, I suppose."

Murdock grinned. "So she's hideous, dumb as a watermelon, and has a horrible personality?"

Charlie stilled the movement of the towel she was sliding over a plate, and fired Murdock a withering look in response.

Murdock threw up his soapy, dripping hands in an innocent shrug. "What?" he asked, amused. "Those things are all the opposite of what you are."

Charlie resumed drying, and couldn't help but smile. "That's not what I meant," she returned dryly. "I mean she's loud, and outgoing, and blunt, and wild." Charlie paused, then added, "And she swears like a sailor. And… oh! She also hates Rick like it's going out of style."

Murdock nodded approvingly. "Sounds like my kind of gal," he remarked.

All too soon, Charlie and Murdock ran out of dirty dishes to occupy themselves with, and the race was on once again to find a distracting activity.

The morning stretched into afternoon at an excruciatingly slow pace. Charlie folded her sofa bed back into place, made the beds of the team members, and sat down with a second map of L.A. she found tucked into a pocket of the van's passenger side door, trying to busy herself, not really seeing the map even as she stared down at it.

Murdock checked the trip wires, set up an antenna on the roof of the cabin, and walked around the area surrounding the temporary hideout, not really expecting to glean new information from the survey, but needing to put some distance between himself and Charlie.

B.A. eventually called to confirm that the cabin was receiving the transmission from the newly installed surveillance camera he'd just set up in the parking garage. The Sergeant had left behind a portable electronic device equipped with a small screen. The device was a hand-held plastic box, black with an array of lights speckled across it, sporting an EMF gauge and a retractable antenna on its top. Charlie switched it on as per B.A.'s instructions, and was quite excited when the transmitter screen faded in with a crystal clear picture of the van's former parking spot. "B.A., you're a genius!" Charlie told him enthusiastically after confirming the feed was working. She heard B.A. grunt just as she hung up the phone.

Ultimately, however, Charlie and Murdock were both forced to concede that there was simply nothing left to do. Charlie came to the realization about ten minutes before Murdock did. She sauntered into the living room, settled herself on a large, over-stuffed couch, and turned on the TV. She twisted the dial until she came across an old, black-and-white Western, and reclined on the sofa to watch, tucking her feet up underneath herself.

It wasn't long before Murdock joined her in the living room. He looked over at Charlie with a wry smile from his position in the front of the cabin's doorway. "You ran out of stuff to distract you too, did you?" he drawled.

Charlie returned his smile. "Yup," she confirmed. "But I did manage to find some old Western movie. You want in?"

In a flash, Murdock had plopped down next to Charlie, settling his feet on a little coffee table in front of the couch.

Charlie chuckled. "Guess that answers that question."

Murdock leaned back and slid an arm casually across the top of the sofa back.

The pair watched in amiable silence for the most part, aside from the occasional comment here and there ("Why don't people threaten to 'fix yer wagon' anymore?" Murdock wanted to know).

By the time the film credits began sliding up the screen, it was late afternoon. Charlie turned to Murdock. "Maybe we should take a crack at getting some dinner ready," she suggested.

Murdock nodded with a sigh, reluctant to rise from his comfortable position.

Charlie was the first to stand. Unfortunately, she realized all too late that the bottom half of her right leg had fallen asleep during the movie. The lack of feeling in her limb caused her to stumble, and before she knew what was happening, she had fallen squarely into Murdock's lap. His hands instinctively grasped her around the waist to steady her. She had landed sideways, turned in such a way that her face and Murdock's were only inches apart. Without consciously deciding to do so, Murdock reached up and gently brushed a few errant tendrils of hair from her face. Charlie felt her heart begin to beat double-time.

"Now, Charlie," Murdock said with a sensual grin. "There's no reason for you to throw yourself at me."

Charlie instantly adopted an indignant look and replied defensively, "I did no such thing! My leg fell asleep! I was just…" Her words suddenly tapered off as she saw unmistakable desire in Murdock's eyes. His gaze held such blatant hunger that she felt her breathing quicken, and her voice vanish. She swallowed.

An internal war had broken out in Murdock, as his want and his reason battled it out viciously. All he wanted to do was take her, right there on the couch. He was helpless to stop the flashbacks popping up in his mind's eye, images of her naked form, her face in the ultimate moment of ecstasy, etched clear as day in his head. His want was quickly gaining the upper hand in the fight against reason, and unbidden, his head slowly descended, the gap between his lips and Charlie's narrowing.

His lips had barely brushed hers when a horn sounded outside, and the pair jumped apart like children caught stealing from the cookie jar.

Charlie couldn't decide if she felt more relieved or irritated by the interruption. "Guess they're back," she murmured, her tone mildly rueful.

Murdock was still staring searchingly into her eyes. "Guess so," he replied softly.

Suddenly, the cabin door slammed open, and they both rose from the couch, their faces guilty. A stunning brunette burst into the room; the moment she laid eyes on Charlie, the woman charged toward her at break-neck speed, squealing, "Charlie!" She threw her arms around Charlie, squeezing her tightly in a joyous bearhug.

"Oh my God, I've missed you!" Charlie squeaked into her friend's ear.

They stepped back from one another, and for the first time, the woman noticed the man on the couch behind Charlie. "You must be H.M. Murdock," she said. She thrust a hand out at the pilot. "Vivian Mayfield."

Murdock greeted Charlie's friend with a disarming smile as he got to his feet and shook the hand she offered. "Ah, so **you're** Vivian." He surveyed Charlie's friend with curiosity. Tall and svelte with a defiant stance, she sported a heavy pair of black motorcycle boots, and wore hip-hugging jeans that flared liberally at the knee. Her shirt was black like her boots, short-sleeved and screened with a large, white image of a Jack Daniels label. One arm was covered in an intricate and colourful full-sleeve tattoo. Her dark hair was brown verging on black, cut into a shoulder–length shag reminiscent of the London mod scene. Her eyes were a captivating and unusual shade of green, lending her a slightly impish quality.

Mirroring Murdock's smile, Vivan said, "Indeed I am, although that tone makes me a little nervous."

Before Murdock could respond, Hannibal, B.A., and Face all came barrelling in. B.A.'s arms were laden with several pizza boxes, and the delicious smell of the food rapidly permeated the cabin.

Murdock's expression shifted to one of clear delight as he streaked across the room and sat at the table. "B.A., old buddy, old pal, you're the best, man!" Murdock declared, licking his lips as he gazed at the pizza boxes.

B.A. grimaced at Murdock's melodramatic compliments, then set the dinner down on the table.

Vivian watched Charlie's face with great interest as she noted how her friend's eyes traveled across the room, affixed on the pilot.

Charlie became aware that Vivan was staring at her, and blushed. "What?" she asked, clearly flustered.

Vivian smiled broadly, her eyes dancing. "Nothing," she chirped, trying her best to sound innocent as she offered Charlie a knowing look. "Let's get some grub before the boys inhale it all."

Charlie nodded warily, and both girls walked to the table. Just as they got close, however, Vivian leaned in close to Charlie and murmured, "Then later, you're going to give me every single detail about what's going on with you and the flyboy."

*****

The next morning brought with it a sunny, cloudless day and a gentle breeze. Sitting on the front porch following another rowdy breakfast, Charlie wished she could appreciate the day with a picnic or a hike, instead of using it to prepare for a hostage rescue.

Vivian wandered out to the porch to join her friend, hoping to get caught up with whatever it was that was happening with Charlie. Last night, Charlie had convinced Hannibal to let Vivian spend the night at the cabin before heading back home, and although it took a great deal of cajoling by Charlie and Vivian, he had eventually given in and agreed to the arrangement. Because she was sharing a bed with Charlie, Vivian had been sure she would be able to wheedle some information out of her sleeping partner, but Charlie had fallen asleep the moment her head touched the pillow. At least, that was how it looked, though Vivian did have suspicions that Charlie might have been faking sleep to avoid the interrogation.

Settling into the free chair on the porch, Vivian set a pack of cigarettes on the low porch table, and handed Charlie one of the two huge mugs full of coffee she had brought out with her. Waiting for the caffeine to kick in, both women sipped slowly at their beverages while surveying the scene in front of them.

All four A-Team members were hard at work about a hundred feet from the cabin. On the back of the flatbed truck Vivian had transported the helicopter on, Murdock was eagerly working on restoring Vivian's rusty, broken contribution, trying to get it in working order. His face bore the distinct look of a child on Christmas morning, as he flitted around the chopper wearing a giddy expression. He was being assisted by Face, who was making every effort to stay clean and tidy for the duration of the repair, but failing miserably to do so. The only visible part of B.A. was his massive legs poking out from underneath the van, where he was making adjustments and tuning up things that only he could tell needed tending to. Hannibal had sussed out a picnic table from somewhere, and had the team's substantial armoury laid out in pieces across the table, as he oiled and cleaned the cache of weapons.

Charlie had been surprised the night before by how much Vivian had tamed her language in conversations with the crew, even throughout the raucous poker game the whole group had played, which concluded after Vivian had cleaned everyone out. Charlie suspected the change in vocabulary may have been the result of Vivian sensing the esteem Charlie held the whole team in, and perhaps Vivian had worried her usual raw language might be seen as disrespectful.

Now that Charlie was the only one within earshot, however, Vivian immediately reverted back to her habitual language usage. She scanned the four men at work with great interest as she pulled a long white cigarette from the pack on the table and lit it. She inhaled deeply, then said, "Charlie, I gotta tell you, watching these guys work is really fucking hot."

Charlie laughed. "Welcome back, Viv," she replied.

Vivian shrugged. "Yeah, sometimes I like to clean it up in front of new people. Especially if I figure they're important to you." Her voice held a warm, raspy, jazz-hall quality. "But goddamn, look at 'em, Charlie! They're all sweaty, and manly, and so…" her voice momentarily faded as she searched for the right word. "… capable," she concluded. "They're just so capable out there."

Charlie smiled, then nodded. "You're not wrong," she confirmed.

"There is something about skilful men working with tools that is just so incredibly sexy." Vivian took a drag off her cigarette, and spent a few minutes with her eyes focused on Murdock. "So, are you gonna tell me about the pilot, or what?"

Charlie rolled her eyes. "What is it you want to know?"

Vivian's mouth flattened into a tight line, and she turned to look narrowly at her friend. "His social security number," she said sarcastically. Watching Charlie shoot her a wan look, Vivian blurted with great exasperation, "What do you think I wanna know?! What's the deal with you two? Are you knocking boots, or crazy in love, or just having a fling, or plotting to take over the world, or what?"

Affixing her gaze on Murdock as he toiled enthusiastically, Charlie smiled and sighed. "I don't know," she replied earnestly. "He's like the sweetest man on the planet, and he's funny, and smart, and-"

"And a total fox," Vivian interjected.

"Yes, and a total fox," Charlie confirmed, indulging her friend even though she was in complete agreement with Vivian's assessment.

"You know, you have always been the biggest sucker for tall, lanky men." Vivian observed.

Charlie tossed a sly smile at Vivian. "Yeah, well, you've always been a sucker for those older, Silver Fox men."

"Hey, I just know what I like," Vivian returned with a shrug. "And lucky for me, you've got one of them cleaning guns over there." She nodded towards Hannibal. "Seriously, I could hit that six ways 'til Sunday."

Charlie giggled. "I don't doubt it."

"Now, back to Murdock. How's the sex?" Vivian asked bluntly, without a trace of embarrassment.

"Did I say we slept together?" Charlie's retort was unmistakably evasive.

"Didn't have to," Vivan returned as she brought her cigarette to her lips, and inhaled deeply. "You interact with each other with a comfort level that only comes from having seen each other naked. Now, you still haven't answered my question."

A slight flush crept up Charlie's cheeks. "It was only once, but…" she dropped her voice slightly and struggled to complete her answer, nowhere near as comfortable with the conversation topic as her friend clearly was. "But it was the best I've ever had," she finally admitted.

Vivian's face burst into a dazzling smile. "Well then, what in the hell could possibly be the problem?!" she yelped.

Charlie sighed for a second time, then launched into the story of how she had met Murdock, a retelling she had glossed over last night in her brief, vague explanation to Vivian about how she knew the pilot.

The porch grew silent after Charlie finished her tale, as Vivian mulled over the other woman's breaking news. Charlie had explained to her last night that she'd been stashed away in hiding in an effort to protect her from Rick, but this was the first Vivian was hearing of the place where Murdock hung his hat. "Are you telling me Murdock is secretly crazy?" Vivian asked, her voice devoid of any judgement or disdain.

Charlie shook her head. "I don't know. He's eccentric, sure, but I don't think he's crazy."

Vivian snorted, and replied, "No crazier than the rest of us, I bet." She scrutinized Murdock across the distance. "But if he's not completely crazy, why does he keep living there?"

"That's the part I can't quite figure out," Charlie answered, a hint of sadness to her voice. "He says he likes the free room and board, but there's got to be more to it than that."

Vivian looked from her friend to Murdock, and back to her friend again, idly flicking ash from her cigarette as she adopted a pensive face. The softening of Charlie's features and the light that flared into Charlie's eyes when she talked about the Captain had Vivian suspecting there was far more depth to Charlie's feelings for Murdock than she was letting on. Vivian finally turned to face Charlie squarely, with a searching look. "Charlie, are you in love with him?" she asked, point blank.

Charlie looked away, her eyes focusing on some invisible point on the horizon. "I don't know," she responded honestly after a time. "I try not to think about it… it's not like we could ever seriously be together."

"Bullshit," Vivian declared, her tone forceful. "If you are in love with him, there has got to be some way to work this out." Vivian blew out a long breath. "Charlie, look, you just got out of a fucking **awful** relationship with the world's biggest asshole. You know damn well guys like Murdock don't come along every day. Honest to God, if you could see the way he looks at you..." She stubbed out her cigarette as she spoke. "You deserve a man like that, and if you really do love him, well, then, I think that's worth fighting for."

Charlie had always turned to Vivian in the past for advice, knowing she could always depend on Vivian for her honest opinion. Vivian's logical assessments of situations and her ability to cut through to the heart of the matter had always steered Charlie right in the past, but for the first time in her life, Charlie doubted Vivian's understanding of the reality Charlie was living. "Hey, I'm open to suggestions," she replied. "If you can think of some way around this whole living-in-the-V.A. problem, I'm all ears. But I just don't see how we can work it out."

Vivian's posture stiffened immediately, signalling her determination. "Charlie, I swear we can figure this out. Let me stew on it a bit."

Charlie smiled, a sense of relief settling in. "Deal," she affirmed, sincere gratitude evident in her eyes.

Vivian pulled out another cigarette. "Wicked." She turned her attention back to the men. "Now, on to greener pastures. Is Hannibal seeing anyone?"


	9. Chapter 9

It was with great reluctance that Charlie had to say her goodbyes to Vivian that afternoon. Being able to talk freely about the confusing and complex situation that existed between herself and Murdock had left Charlie feeling slightly less overwhelmed about the matter. Still, Charlie knew that the farther Vivian was from the dangerous reality Rick had created, the safer Vivian would be. The last thing Charlie wanted to do was drag yet another person into the mess she was currently wading through.

Charlie had felt a mixture of loss and relief as Vivian's flatbed truck had trundled from the cabin, followed closely by B.A., Hannibal, and Face in the van who were headed off to continue the task of tracking down Rick and her father. Murdock was once again staying at the cabin, though this time he had plenty to keep him busy as he worked diligently at getting the aging helicopter back in working order.

After tending to the domestic busywork she had distracted herself with the day before, Charlie's initial thought was to go find a spot near Murdock and keep him company as he worked. As she watched him from the doorway however, she realized just how terrible that particular plan was: echoing Vivian's reaction to watching the team work that morning, Charlie found that watching Murdock work was simply far too stimulating. Sweat glistened on his brow, and a smear of grease smudged across one cheek gave him an inexplicably roguish appearance. His long fingers twisted at bolts and tugged at cables, and the muscles in his arms strained and coiled as he attacked stubborn washers with a wrench, and finicky cogs with a screwdriver. Even with almost a hundred feet separating her from the pilot, she felt herself growing warm, incapable of blocking remembrances of those same capable hands playing her body like a virtuoso playing a musical instrument.

With an exasperated sigh, Charlie headed back into the cabin. She had left her duffle bag on the floor of the living room, and now moved to the bag, fishing around in it until her fingers settled on the novel she had packed. She pulled out a well-worn copy of _The_ _Catcher in the Rye_, lovingly and futilely smoothing out a few upturned corners of tattered pages.

She walked back out the front door of the cabin, and angled herself towards a hammock she had spied yesterday, strung between a set of towering pine trees about fifty feet from the front left corner of the cabin.

Murdock looked up as Charlie walked past, and suddenly, his mouth felt dry. She was dressed in clothing clearly chosen for comfort rather than fashion, but his gaze was hungry as he watched her move. She wore a ratty old pair of very short gym shorts, exposing nearly the full length of her long, shapely legs. Above that, she wore a well-used t-shirt with an unravelling hem and the image of Mighty Mouse splashed across it. The shirt hugged her curves, clinging to the swell of her breasts. A pair of flip-flops clacked and snapped as she walked; she was unaware of the sensual sway of her hips as she did so. Her auburn hair, brilliant in the sunlight, was pulled back into a hasty pony tail. Stubborn tendrils of hair had broken free of the elastic holding her hair in place, curling and tumbling wistfully around her face. Murdock realized with a start that just by watching her, his body was responding physically, and he crouched slightly in his position behind the helicopter to conceal the increasingly blatant evidence of his arousal. _What am I, back in high school?_ he chastised himself, slightly mortified.

Charlie looked up to see Murdock staring back at her with a peculiar look on his face, and she tried to maintain a casual appearance as she offered him a little wave. After a slight hesitation, he grinned broadly and waved back.

When she reached the hammock, she kicked off her flip-flops and clambered into the swinging rope bed. She cracked the book open and began to read, but it wasn't long before the hammock's gentle rocking made her eyelids heavy, and eventually, lulled her to sleep.

*****

When Charlie awoke several hours later, she was surprised to find that dusk had fallen. She looked down at herself and realized she'd been covered with a fleecy blanket she was sure she hadn't fallen asleep with.

"Hiya, sweetheart," came a familiar voice.

Charlie jumped a little upon hearing Murdock's voice, and realized he was standing beside the hammock. Her sleepy brain finally gathered that she must have just been woken by the pilot. She struggled to a sitting position and swiped at her bleary eyes, then turned to look at him, blinking a few times to focus. "What time is it?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Just a little before eight o-clock," he replied, trying to ignore how sexy he was finding the tousled red hair swirling around her shoulders. "I figure if you're falling asleep in the middle of the day, your body must need some extra rest, so the boys and I decided to let you sleep."

Almost fully awake now, Charlie furrowed her brow. "You should've woken me earlier," she told the pilot, her half-hearted reprimand revealing that she was not terribly upset she'd been allowed to carry on sleeping. "So the rest of the team is back?"

Murdock nodded, offering her a hand as she climbed out of the hammock. As she clasped his hand and disembarked, he informed her, "Hannibal thinks they found the warehouse, so they'll be confirming it tomorrow."

Charlie felt both hopeful and frightened. "How'll they do that?" she asked.

"You'll see," Murdock responded with a conspiratorial tone and a grin. "In the meantime, you oughta go put on something a little warmer – I finally finished work on the chopper, and you and I are gonna test her." He looked triumphant.

Charlie looked at him askew, sceptical, though still smiling. "Does Hannibal know this?"

"He does," Murdock confirmed. "He said it was fine as long as we stuck to just testing it."

Charlie's face showed mild surprise. "Really?" She paused for a moment of thought, then said, "I haven't even had dinner yet."

"I just wrapped a plate up for you and left it on the kitchen table; it should still be warm. Just grab it on your way back out, and you can have an in-flight meal," he countered merrily. When Charlie's expression remained unconvinced, Murdock prodded, "Come on, don't you wanna fly with the best pilot ever?"

Charlie laughed. "Alright, alright, I'll come," she finally conceded. "But no crazy aerial acrobatics," she warned. "I like food in my stomach to stay in my stomach."

Murdock offered her a crisp salute. "Yes, ma'am," he stated. "Now, go get ready and meet me by the helicopter."

Charlie nodded and disappeared into the house, returning a short time later. She carried a plate covered with tin foil and had swapped her shorts for jeans. She felt a slight nervousness arise as she approached the helicopter, and tried to stave off the apprehension by reminding herself she would be in the hands of an incredibly skilled, experienced pilot.

Murdock was already in the copter, beckoning her to join him and looking positively giddy with excitement. His enthusiasm was infectious, and once Charlie had settled herself in the seat next to Murdock, she too felt eager anticipation for the flight.

A gleam in his eye, Murdock turned to his passenger and asked, "Ready?" as he wiggled his eyebrows.

Charlie chuckled. "Let's do it," she affirmed.

Using the dizzying array of instruments before him, Murdock began pushing buttons, pulling levers, and flipping switches at an astonishing pace. Charlie heard the rotors above them start to whirl around, slowly at first, then gaining speed. The chopper began to rise up off the ground, and as they ascended, Murdock threw back his head and let out a high-pitched howl at the top of his lungs. Charlie chortled, and before she knew it, she was looking down at an ant-sized version of the cabin.

They flew for a long time, Murdock in a state of bliss as he familiarized himself with the feel of this particular helicopter, putting it through its paces.

Charlie nibbled at her meal of wieners and beans, courtesy of B.A., but ultimately ate very little, far too engrossed in the entirely new world surrounding herself and Murdock. As darkness continued to fall, tiny silver stars appeared from nowhere, bejewelling the velvet night sky. Murdock began pointing out various constellations, and she listened with rapt attention as he related the stories behind the names and formations of each celestial grouping. Their surroundings took on an almost magical quality, and it became clear to Charlie why Murdock was so passionate about flying. The physical distance between their problems on earth and their location in the sky made Charlie feel mentally distanced from the land-bound chaos they had left below. She suddenly felt an overwhelming gratitude towards Murdock for having brought her into this peaceful, ethereal universe. Impulsively, she reached over and grabbed his free hand, interlacing her fingers with his.

Murdock glanced over at his passenger, and she saw his face register momentary surprise, then dissolve into a dazzling smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he looked at her.

The moment of connection was shattered almost immediately though when a loud snap from the engine pierced the relative quiet. "Uh… what was that?" Charlie asked, glancing around nervously, withdrawing her hand from Murdock's.

"Dunno," Murdock answered, trying to keep his tone casual. The control of the chopper didn't feel like it had changed, and the rotor above them appeared to be unaffected. When the engine began to make growling noises that gradually increased in volume though, the Captain decided it was time to put the copter down for an inspection, and he began surveying the terrain below for a good place to land. He turned towards Charlie briefly, and saw that she had her hands clasped together so tightly, her knuckles were white. "Nothing to worry about, honey," he assured her, his voice even. "We're just gonna put 'er down so I can take a look."

Charlie nodded, looking wholly unconvinced. She closed her eyes, and only when she felt the massive machine touch down on solid ground did she reopen them. Looking around, she could see that they had settled in a small clearing, surrounded on all sides by dense forest.

Murdock reached over and gave her thigh a reassuring squeeze. "Didn't I tell you we'd be fine?" he asked brightly with a wink, then hopped out of the cab.

Charlie unbuckled herself and clambered out to join him, her legs feeling a little rubbery with relief.

Over on his side of the chopper, Murdock found a foothold just above the skids, and stepped up on it. He popped open the cowling, the engine cover just under the blades. A quick survey of the engine revealed that one of the belts had somehow managed to snag something, leading to a slight kink that was making it very difficult for the belt to rotate easily. Murdock leapt back down from his perch and reached behind the seat in the cockpit, re-emerging with a screw driver. He jumped back up to his previous spot, and made a few adjustments.

"Everything okay?" Charlie asked with concern.

"Yup," returned Murdock. "I should probably do a little more tinkering with her when we get 'er home, but she'll be fine for the trip back."

Charlie sighed, her worries appeased. As Murdock returned his focus to the helicopter, Charlie thought she spotted movement out of the corner of her eye. She squinted into the dense bush. Their surroundings suddenly seemed very dark and foreboding, as it occurred to her that absolutely anything could be concealed in the thick foliage just a few feet from them, and neither she nor the Captain would have any way of knowing it. Suddenly, she saw a glint of light, and as she strained to see the source, she discovered two glowing eyes staring back at her. Panicked, she hissed, "Murdock!" Realizing he couldn't hear her and not wanting to shout, she slowly moved around the front of the copter to the other side. She tried to shut out the voice in her head that kept coming up with all the possible, and largely irrational, things the glowing eyes could belong to: _Oh my God, what if it's a wolf? Or a mountain lion? Or… wait, are we in bear country? __Where the hell __is__ bear country? _When she reached the other side of the helicopter after what felt like hours, she reached up and tugged at Murdock's khaki pant leg. He looked down, and seeing her frightened expression, immediately hopped off his perch.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking a little frightened himself, though for different reasons.

Charlie moved directly in front of him, grabbing his shirt near the shoulder with one hand and pointing frantically at the glowing eyes with the other. The eyes were definitely closer now.

Murdock frowned and peered in the direction she was pointing. He encircled her protectively with one arm, pulling her against his body in case he needed to shield her. With his free hand, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his pistol, levelling it at the mysterious terror lurking in the shadows. When the creature failed to appear, he pointed his gun upwards and fired, feeling Charlie flinch at the sound.

There was an immediate scrambling sound in the brush, leaves and twigs rustling and snapping with the creature's frenzied movements. Finally, the beast emerged.

A terrified-looking and incredibly fat opossum waddled as fast as he could as he entered the clearing, and streaked (as much as any chubby opossum can streak) in a straight line across the lower half of the clearing before disappearing into another break in the forest greenery.

Pressed against his chest, Charlie could feel his body start shaking with laughter. She pulled away, mortified, as he holstered his gun.

Keeping a firm grip on one of Charlie's hands as she backed away while blushing furiously, he managed to blurt between chuckles, "Geez, that thing was terrifying!", then immediately set to laughing again.

Charlie frowned, feeling incredibly silly. "How was I supposed to know that's all it was?" she huffed defensively. She wheeled around to storm off, but Murdock held tight to her hand, and with a tug, she was spun back and pulled flush to him. She raised her eyes to his, her expression stern. "I do not appreciate being laughed at."

Murdock's laughter subsided, though his eyes still danced with mirth. He reached up and ran a finger along Charlie's jaw. "Now, darlin', I wasn't laughing at you," he insisted. "I was laughing at the whole situation. I was spooked too for a minute there."

Charlie's irritation began to fade at the touch of his hand, and she realized her thinking had become substantially muddled as she breathed in his familiar scent. "Well, I guess that's…" She paused, her thoughts jumbled. She took a deep breath and said with very little conviction, "I guess we should head back." She placed a hand against his chest, intending to push off and step back, but she couldn't seem to make her muscles work. She watched as all traces of humour fled from Murdock's eyes, and a very different look entered them.

He swallowed as he looked down at Charlie. "Guess we should," he murmured, though he too found his body unwilling to respond to his brain's efforts to back away. Instead, he felt his body react with seeming indifference to his intentions. The hand that had been gripping hers now turned to interlace the fingers of their hands together. "We should really go," he said again, in a low, husky tone, his other hand sliding down to the small of her back.

Like Murdock, Charlie too could feel her body reacting. She knew damn well she needed to put space between herself and the Captain, but the reasons why were rapidly vanishing, even as she tried to remember them. Looking into Murdock's warm brown eyes and sultry expression, she licked her lips and whispered, "Yeah, we really should…"

Despite their words, the pair stood unmoving, staring into one another's eyes. Quiet seconds ticked by. Finally, with an abrupt primal growl, Murdock muttered, "Oh, the hell with this," and hungrily sealed his lips with Charlie's. The force of the kiss caused Charlie to back up slightly as she clung to the pilot, and she felt the cool exterior of the helicopter press against her back. She returned Murdock's kiss with equal force, lifting off his baseball cap and sending it flying through the air, before sliding her fingers into his soft hair. Their tongues intertwined fervently, delving desperately into one another's mouths in a frantic attempt to alleviate their mutual staggering need.

Murdock finally rocked his mouth from hers and moved to her ear, nibbling on it, smelling traces of a soft perfume she had dabbed on that morning. "Fire me," he rasped, his breath warm against her ear.

It took Charlie a moment for his words to register, her focus being far too occupied by the delicious feeling of his body against hers, and the magic his lips and hands were working. "Wh- …what?" she asked on a whimper.

With her head thrown back, Murdock zealously moved to the expanse of neck offered to him. Between hot kisses, he demanded again, "Fire me. Just for tonight." He moved further down her neck. "Re-hire me later. Just stop being a client tonight."

Even with his clarification, Charlie had to let his words echo in her head a few times before her brain could make sense of them. When she finally grasped what he was asking of her, she was reminded of Hannibal's orders, and a tiny voice in her head told her she should stop. The need she was feeling was so overwhelming however, she was unsure if she could deny it. "Murdock, I…" she began, her voice marked by uncertainty.

For a moment, Murdock's own hesitation surfaced. His breathing heavy, he stopped kissing her and looked up. He saw his own desire reflected back at him in her face, and in a split second, decided life was too short. He reached behind her and lifted her legs, winding them around his hips as he pushed her against the helicopter. He stared at her intensely. "Fire me," he growled, his gaze unflinching.

Feeling his need pressing against her, feeling her own aching need, Charlie looked into the handsome face in front of her. Finally, she took his head in her hands and pulled him so that her lips were at his ear. "You're fired," she whispered triumphantly.

Murdock unleashed a primal rumble, and brought his lips back to Charlie's, kissing her with a fire far beyond anything she had ever known before. The slow, leisurely foreplay and gradual building of pleasure that had defined their first joining was entirely absent as they tugged at each other's clothing, straining against one another.

With one swift movement, Charlie yanked Murdock's t-shirt up over his head, and as soon as she had sent it flying, he returned the favour with her own top. He fumbled with her bra clasp as she eagerly ran her hands over his chest, his springy chest hair tickling her palms as she caressed the familiar contours of his body.

Her bra clasp finally sprung free, and Murdock wasted no time in pulling the undergarment from her, letting it fall heedlessly to the ground. Her breasts heaved in front of him, and he lowered his head to one, his adept fingers seeking out the other. Her breath caught in her throat as his mouth tugged at her nipple, his tongue moving across the sensitive tip of it, while he rolled her other nipple between his fingers, his thumb sliding back and forth over the top of it. Writhing as her pleasure rapidly elevated, she ran her fingers down his stomach and reached into his pants. She wrapped her fingers around him, sliding her hand up and down, while using her other hand to trace circles over and around the tip of his erection with exploratory fingers.

Murdock groaned, and reached down to still the movements of her hands, rasping hoarsely, "No, Charlie…" He struggled to keep control, desperate to keep the encounter from ending so prematurely.

Charlie gave him a sultry smile, the knowledge that she could have such an effect on him making her feel especially sexy. "Good to know," she purred, and reached for his belt, unfastening it hastily, before unbuttoning and unzipping his khakis.

His pants on the ground, Murdock took Charlie's other breast into his mouth, not missing a beat as he kicked the pants from his legs; they landed in a heap next to the chopper. His hands moved to the waistband of Charlie's jeans, and they were both breathing with short, quick gasps as Murdock quickly pushed both her pants and her underwear down her legs, pulling one leg free before passing the empty pant leg between their bodies and yanking it off the other leg, where the garment fell and pooled on the ground.

With her arms around his neck and her legs around his hips, Murdock was now completely surrounded by Charlie's naked form. He ran his hand down the length of one leg, marvelling at its smooth, supple texture, then reached around to cup her full backside in his hand. His lips moved back to her mouth, devouring her as she reciprocated in kind. Murdock shifted, and one of his hands roved across the front of her body and down her stomach, reaching between her legs. Charlie cried out as his fingers found the most sensitive part of her, bringing her to a level of ecstasy she hadn't even known existed.

Murdock's gaze was positively smouldering as he watched the beautiful woman wrapped around him close her eyes, breathing hard and desperate for release. Close to losing it himself, he reached down and yanked off his boxer-briefs, moving with surprising agility for a man holding up a stark naked woman. He placed both hands under her bum, and lifted her slightly. He paused, drawing out the moment.

Charlie's eyes opened and locked on to Murdock's, her body twisting and quivering. "Murdock, please…" she moaned.

The raw need in her tone elicited an immediate reaction from Murdock. He lowered Charlie until he was finally sheathed within her.

Gasping and whimpering, Charlie reached up behind her and found a handhold above her on the helicopter, which she gripped and used for leverage as she began to ride Murdock, bracing herself by placing her other hand on his shoulder.

Murdock groaned, matching her pace as he thrust up into her, his breathing ragged.

Their movements grew faster and more fervent. In the distance, a very fat opossum heard strange, loud noises he had never heard before, and found them to be a little frightening.

Charlie bucked against Murdock faster and faster, until her head spun, and all she could hear was fuzzy white noise buzzing in her ears. Finally, she cried out repeatedly as wave after wave of release crashed over her, every nerve in her body twitching, every muscle in her body spasming at once as she reached her climax.

A guttural noise that was very nearly a howl escaped Murdock's lips, as he too joined Charlie at the precipice of desire and found his release as well, his body tensing and shuddering as he reached his own explosive orgasm.

Covered with a thin sheen of sweat, entwined in each other's arms, the pair leaned into each other, depleted and sated. His legs now weak, Murdock held Charlie tight while they slid as one down the side of the copter until they collapsed on the ground. Murdock briefly moved to reach behind the seats in the cockpit, and grabbed a flannel safety blanket stowed in the back. He returned and laid down next to Charlie, the warm, sweet grass soft against their backs. He threw the blanket over them and they snuggled together, both wearing contented grins.

As her pulse slowed, Charlie looked up at Murdock. "Wow," she breathed.

Murdock looked down at her. "Yeah," he said in a low tone, smiling like an idiot.

A comfortable silence stretched out between them, the sounds of night blanketing the couple as they held one another under a canopy of endless stars. Charlie finally sighed and turned her face up to Murdock. "I think we've gotta head back," she murmured, sounding remorseful.

He reached down with a tender expression on his face, and gently caressed her cheek. "I know," he concurred, sounding just as unhappy about it as Charlie did.

Charlie twisted and fitted the full length of her body to his, her leg sliding lazily between both of his as she traced idle patterns on his chest with her finger tips and tried to ignore the inevitable for just a few more minutes. She was surprised to feel his body react, as his need began to rise and push against her. She looked up at him, grinning.

"Damnit," he muttered. "We've really gotta go."

Charlie snickered at how thoroughly put out the pilot looked. "Fine, alright," she conceded, rolling her eyes.

Murdock put a finger under her chin, and tilted her face to his. "Hey, you know it wouldn't be my first choice, sweetheart," he reminded her.

Charlie sat up, holding the blanket against herself for cover, her bedraggled hair tumbling in glorious waves down her back. She turned to look down at Murdock, now lying with his hands clasped behind his head. "I know," she reassured him.

Eventually they both stood, and searched the surrounding area for their carelessly discarding clothing, dressing as slowly as they could. When they were fully clothed again, they looked at one another, knowing they couldn't delay their return to the cabin any longer. Wanting to savour the last of their secretive encounter before they returned to Hannibal's rules, Murdock stepped forward and slid one arm around Charlie, pulling her close. He gently took hold of her chin with his thumb and forefinger and angled it slightly upwards. He dipped his head down and kissed her tenderly, but thoroughly. Her hands encircled his neck, and she returned the kiss whole-heartedly.

He finally stepped back, searching her eyes with his own. He looked for a moment as though he wanted to say something, but couldn't manage to. Ultimately, he merely sighed, and murmured, "Right, let's go."

Charlie nodded. "Let's go," she repeated.

They reluctantly took their respective seats in the helicopter, then lifted off, disappearing into the warm embrace of the night.

*****

By the time Charlie and Murdock touched back down near the cabin, it was nearly eleven o'clock at night. Murdock flipped a switch and the engine rumbled to a halt. Then he turned and reached for Charlie, bringing her to him for a lengthy, bittersweet kiss. All too soon Murdock was pulling back, and leaning his forehead against Charlie's, his eyes closed. "Just needed one more for the road," he told her in a hushed tone.

"I know," said Charlie sadly, placing her hand against his cheek, her fingers brushing a wayward strand of golden-brown hair from his brow. "Guess it's time to re-hire you," she murmured.

Murdock slowly moved from her and returned to sitting up straight in the pilot's seat, watching her all the while. "Guess so," he returned.

Charlie smiled, but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "You're re-hired, H.M. Murdock," she declared.

He nodded, trying to keep his own demeanour upbeat.

They shared one last longing look, and then they both stepped from the helicopter.

Charlie held up a hand and waved at Murdock as she started for the cabin. "Goodnight, Murdock," she offered, before walking to the front door and disappearing into the house.

Murdock watched her go, then sighed. Feeling far too wound up for sleep, he opted to make himself comfortable in the now-familiar chair on the porch, hoping the quiet might give him the opportunity to try making sense of the maelstrom of emotions swirling around in his brain.

His quiet contemplation didn't last long however, as a creak from the front door opening interrupted his thoughts. Murdock looked up and saw Face emerge from the cabin. The Lieutenant held two bottles of beer in his hand, both speckled with droplets of condensation. He passed one to Murdock, who smiled back with gratitude. The pilot twisted off the bottle top on his beer, finding the whisper of escaping air strangely comforting.

Face settled down on the other chair adorning the porch, and mimicked Murdock's opening of the bottle.

Both men sipped the cold beverages in silence for a few minutes. Eventually, Face spoke. "Quite a long flight tonight, Captain," he remarked, looking at his friend closely.

Murdock's mouth twitched upwards at the corners. "Had to make sure she was running right. Better safe than sorry, Facey," he replied, trying to sound casual.

When Murdock glanced back at his beer, Face rolled his eyes. "And that's the only reason it took so long, is it?" Face then asked, not fooled in the least by Murdock's effort to act nonchalant.

Murdock turned to look at the Lieutenant, plastering what he hoped was an innocent look on his face. "Yeah, of course it is, Faceman. I mean, there's not much trouble two people flying in a helicopter can get into."

Face looked at his friend narrowly. He brought his beer to his lips, and took a long swig, savouring the taste with a thoughtful expression. After a few beats, he said, "You know, I always thought I was the one on top of all the latest fashion trends, buddy."

Murdock frowned at Face, looking thoroughly confused.

"But apparently, you heard about some new, hip way to wear shirts before I did."

The Captain looked down at his shirt, and immediately groaned. It was on inside-out. "Shit," he muttered.

Face smirked and raised his bottle to the pilot before taking a gulp. He swallowed and said, "You didn't actually think you could hide whatever's going on with Charlie from me, did you?"

Murdock grinned sheepishly. "The thought had occurred to me," he said dryly.

Face snorted. "Come on, buddy. I would have had to be deaf not to hear the noises coming from the bedroom that night you two bunked together at the apartment."

Murdock had the decency to blush slightly. "Ah… you heard that, did you?"

Face nodded. "Made me wonder if I should ask you for tips about your moves."

"Couldn't hurt," the pilot returned with a wicked grin.

"That'll be the day," the Lieutenant fired back before taking a healthy swig from his bottle.

The two men sat in silence again, staring into the darkness for a while.

Eventually, Face blew out a long breath and propped his feet up on the porch rail. "So, what's the deal with you two?" he asked guardedly.

Murdock sighed. "I'm not sure," he replied, shaking his head. "But I'm pretty sure there is some kind of deal."

"I'd say I think you're crazy about her, but it seems redundant," Face offered wryly.

Murdock stuck his tongue out at Face. He then took a gulp of beer, and mused, "I gotta tell you though, Face, she's pretty fantastic."

Face looked shrewdly at the other man. He paused for a moment, unsure if he should ask his next question. His curiosity ultimately won out. "Murdock, are you in love with Charlie?"

Murdock sighed into the night air. He didn't reply immediately, unsure of the answer himself. He took a long, slow sip from his beer. At last, he said, "I dunno, Faceman." The Captain shrugged, then looked over at Face. "I'm not even sure I know what love feels like. I mean, I thought I did, with an ex-girlfriend or two, but with Charlie…" He trailed off briefly, then continued. "With Charlie, it's an entirely different feeling."

Murdock's response told Face all he needed to know, but the Lieutenant decided to keep the conclusion he'd drawn to himself. He decided instead that there was a more pressing issue that needed addressing. "Murdock," Face began. "I feel for you buddy, but you know as well as I do that girlfriends and the A-Team just don't mix."

"Maybe they could," Murdock returned, a hint of hopefulness in his tone.

"Murdock, let's be realistic here," Face implored. "We're fugitives."

"I'm not," Murdock was quick to correct his friend.

"You live in the V.A.," Face continued.

"I could find a way to leave for good."

"We travel all the time."

"Have you heard of this new-fangled invention called the 'telephone'?" Murdock flung back.

"We run the risk of being killed every time we go on a mission."

Murdock opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't seem to refute Face's last point. Instead, his voice held clear exasperation and he sounded slightly defeated as he lamented, "Faceman, come on, there's gotta be some way Charlie and I can make it work… you know, if we decide to." The last words of his sentence were hastily tacked on.

"Maybe so, but girlfriends mean distractions, and competing interests."

"Such as?"

Face sighed. "Look, Murdock, you know why we always win?"

"Because you're so handsome?" Murdock asked teasingly.

The Lieutenant pulled a sour face at Murdock before continuing. "Although I am terribly dashing, we win because we're one another's top priorities. We work as one. I know if something goes wrong, or I wind up in trouble, I can count on the Team to fix it." He paused and sipped at his beer.

Murdock frowned. "How would that change if Charlie and I were together?"

"Because women throw in a different priority," Face declared. "When it comes right down to it, a woman you love will always trump the Team." He ran a frustrated hand through his sandy blond hair, then looked intensely at his bottle of beer as he said, "We've all had to make sacrifices for the Team, Murdock. Relationships of any kind are at the top of the list."

The pilot picked idly at the label on his beer. "Well," he said after a while. "You certainly are a Gloomy Gus." His tone belied the levity of his words.

Face's lips twisted into a wry smile. "I think I'm more of a… Realistic… Roy?" he finally finished with a shrug.

Murdock laughed in spite of himself. "Realistic Roy sounds like the worst action figure ever."

Face began to laugh too. "He'd have, like, a beer gut, and a comb-over… and realistic dream-shattering action."

Murdock doubled over laughing, and Face joined him, both glad for the welcome release from their morose conversation.

Once their laughter subsided, Murdock turned to Face. "So, uh… Hannibal doesn't know about what you… overheard that night at the apartment?" he asked, looking guilty.

"You mean, does he know about you and Charlie screaming down the walls?" Face was clearly enjoying the Captain's discomfort.

Murdock turned a little red. "I hardly think we were 'screaming'," he grumbled, pouting.

Face snorted. "Think again. But no, I didn't tell him."

"And my super-fashionable way of wearing my shirt?" Murdock inquired, pulling the front of his shirt away from his chest for emphasis.

"I could probably be persuaded to keep it under my hat," Face offered, looking mischievous.

Murdock groaned. "Alright, what do you want?"

The Lieutenant's face burst into a dazzling grin, his teeth gleaming in the night. "Well, Hannibal's gonna need a wig tomorrow, but I haven't decided which one yet. I thought to be on the safe side, we should have them all ready to go. Which means you can go to the van and brush them all out."

"Aw, come **on**, Facey!" Murdock whined.

"Plus, all the makeup and prosthetics are just **everywhere**," Face continued, making sweeping, melodramatic gestures with his hands, and clearly enjoying himself. "So, you can clean that mess up. That way I'll have some free time to not tell Hannibal about your… shenanigans."

"Faceman!" Murdock sputtered.

Face stood and smiled down at his flustered friend. "Oh, come on, I bet you'll have fun."

Murdock grimaced, and ground out, "Not likely." He reluctantly got to his feet and thrust his hands into his pockets. "Do I really have to brush them **all** out?" he asked, sounding a little desperate. "Even the wino wig?"

Face's smile was positively devilish. "Better safe than sorry, buddy, just like you said, remember?"

Murdock muttered something unintelligible under his breath in response to having his own words thrown back at him.

Face chuckled and opened the cabin's front door. "See you tomorrow morning, Murdock!" he tossed back to the pilot in a sing-song voice.

Murdock grumbled and started to trudge towards the van.

Face paused at the door to the cabin, turning to glance back at his friend's retreating form. It was difficult to tell in the darkness, but Face could have sworn he saw Murdock flip him off.

*****

Colonel John Smith was a man of many impressive skills, but his favourite skill to employ by far was his acting. He took a great deal of pride in his ability to create personas, and was thrilled whenever the opportunity to do so arose. For Hannibal, there was something thoroughly exhilarating about becoming an entirely different person.

Having received confirmation that last night's helicopter test had been a success, Hannibal had announced to Charlie and the team over that morning's breakfast that it was time to move to the next stage of the plan.

Currently seated in the van with Face, the Colonel's excitement was palpable. Face, on the other hand, had the distinct look of a man on his way to the dentist, his body language suggesting he did not share in Hannibal's giddy anticipation.

The Lieutenant looked out the van window at the building they were parked in front of. The dingy, bleak warehouse had grabbed the attention of B.A., Face and Hannibal yesterday. As they had done with several other warehouses Charlie had directed them to, the three men had watched the building for a few hours, looking for signs of activity. Their patient surveillance had eventually paid off when two men had walked out of the building. Both men had come to a halt a few feet from the door they had just exited, and sparked up cigarettes for an apparent smoke break. Once they had reduced their cigarettes to stubs, they had turned around and disappeared back inside the foreboding structure.

The fact that two men had exited and re-entered a building that was supposed to be abandoned was suspicious on its own, but a quick peek through a set of binoculars revealed that both men had guns peeking out from beneath their jackets as well. Hannibal, Face, and B.A. had all felt certain that they had found what they were looking for.

Now mere moments from putting phase two of Hannibal's plan into action, Face absently drummed his fingers on the van's steering wheel. B.A. and his M16 were moving on foot around to the rear exit of the building, ensuring the Sergeant would be prepared if things went South and he needed to run in, or if one of the warehouse occupants got nervous and decided to run out. All that remained was for him to radio Hannibal and Face once he was in position, and the con could begin.

High above the van's parking spot, Murdock was circling around the warehouse, watching for snipers or any other threats, while simultaneously keeping an eye out for anyone who might get spooked and leave the building through an exit the Team had missed in their cursory inspection of the structure's exterior. He was accompanied by Charlie, whom Hannibal had refused to let stay alone in the cabin.

The Colonel leaned forward in the passenger seat, peering upwards through the front windshield in order to get a view of the sky above the van. He immediately spotted the chopper, the call letters of a fake radio station plastered along the sides and bottom of the machine, an added precaution intended to prevent the hovering copter from garnering suspicion.

Growing impatient, Hannibal reached up and flipped down the passenger-side visor, re-checking his appearance for the umpteenth time in the visor's tiny mirror. He was clothed in a finely-tailored, robin's egg blue suit, finished with wide lapels and an ostentatious velour trim of navy blue. Under the jacket was a crisp white dress shirt with a collar and cuffs that were so over-sized, they verged on ridiculous. A black bolo tie lay against Hannibal's chest, and a pair of rhinestone cufflinks shaped like little horses flashed at the ends of his sleeves. The belt he wore was large and gaudy, and black leather cowboy boots peeked from beneath his pant legs. The Colonel had completed the look with a wig of thick grey hair, a matching fake moustache, a wide-brimmed white cowboy hat, and an ample amount of loud, flashy jewellery.

His self-inspection was cut short by a crackle on his walkie-talkie, immediately followed by the gruff voice of B.A. "I'm ready, Hannibal," the Sergeant declared.

Because they were all on the same channel, B.A.'s message was relayed to Murdock up in the chopper, and the pilot was quick to echo the Sergeant's words. "Ready here too, Hannibal," Murdock confirmed.

Hannibal smiled broadly, the jazz already pumping through his veins. "Right," he replied into his own walkie-talkie as he held down a button. "Here we go!" he announced into the walkie-talkie and to Face.

Face took a deep breath and stepped slowly from the van; by contrast, Hannibal jumped eagerly from the vehicle.

They walked together towards what appeared to be the main entrance of the warehouse. While he'd put together an outrageous ensemble for Hannibal, Face's role only required him to wear a business suit, so he'd chosen a sober, charcoal grey one from his own personal wardrobe. The Lieutenant's accessories were equally pedestrian, consisting simply of a pair of glasses, and a clipboard.

When they reached the door, Hannibal and Face looked at one another briefly, then nodded to each other. Face opened the door, and they began their patter the moment they stepped inside.

Speaking loudly, Face said, "You are really gonna love this place, Mr. Wickersham. It's a real find, and quite a steal too."

Hannibal adopted a southern accent for his character. "Well, now boy, I surely hope yer right as rain about this place, yes siree. I ain't in no mood to traipse around this city when I got me a sick mare back home needs tendin' too." As he spoke, Hannibal's eyes darted rapidly around the room. He spotted a few cameras mounted near the ceiling, and several large drums imprinted with the word "flammable". He also noted a metal catwalk that encircled the room high above himself and Face.

The two men heard voices from one corner of the huge, open main floor they had walked into. Because the voices were coming from behind a door a fair distance from them, neither Hannibal nor Face could make out any specific words, but they could both identify at least four distinct voices. The voices stopped abruptly a moment later, and the sound of a heavy metal door sliding open was heard. Face and Hannibal had continued their charade without stopping as they assessed the building.

"Yes, I understand that, Mr. Wickersham, and I certainly don't want to be responsible for your horse getting sicker. Now, you'll find that this building has ample space, and it's completely wired for industrial use. I also want to show you –"

Face's speech came to a sudden halt as a figure stepped from the shadows of one corner of the warehouse.

Hannibal squinted into the darkness, trying to identify the man emerging. The stranger's features became clearer as he moved towards light, and it didn't take Hannibal long to determine that the man wasn't Rick. Charlie had showed the Team a photograph of her ex-boyfriend, and the man approaching looked nothing like the man from the picture. Hannibal noted the man's hand hovering at his side, near his belt, and discerned immediately that this man was armed and prepared to shoot if he needed to.

"Can I help you?" the stranger ground out.

Hannibal plastered a lovely but forced smile on his face, and walked towards the man with his hand outstretched. "Clarence Wickersham the third," he announced proudly. "Owner of Wickersham Textiles, finest textile merchant south of the Mason-Dixon line. I reckoned it was time I expand my fine little enterprise, and this gentleman right here's helpin' me do it." Hannibal looked over at Face as though he had just remembered the Lieutenant was with him. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir; now, where are my manners?" The Colonel gestured to Face. "This here's m' real estate agent, Lawrence Bickerstaff, but I call 'im Larry. Lawrence is just so hoity-toity, don't ya think? Now, what's yer handle, son?"

The man in front of Hannibal and Face was staring at Hannibal slack-jawed, completely thrown by the Colonel's lengthy rambling. Without thinking, he instinctively replied to Hannibal's request for a name, saying, "Garth." In the next moment, Garth realized what he'd said, and cursed under his breath. He struggled to process the barrage of words Hannibal had just assailed him with, and gave his head a little shake to clear it before he spoke again. "Uh, I mean… this place ain't for sale, old man," he growled. He did not shake the hand Hannibal offered.

The Colonel did his very best impression of a man feeling righteous indignation. "Now, see here, boy! That is most certainly not the way a young man ought to address his elders. I reckon you musta been raised in a barn, speakin' like that."

Before Garth could fling more insults at Hannibal, Face jumped in. "Look, Mr…. uh, Garth was it?" Face spit out the name with disdain, like it was something unappetizing he'd stepped in. "I work for Landsdowne Realty – perhaps you've heard of us?" Face reached into an inside breast pocket of his jacket and pulled out a business card, meticulously printed for just such a con.

Garth took the card from Face and looked at it. "No," he grumbled, looking a little lost.

"Well, Mr. Garth, let me assure you that this property is most certainly for sale." Face pulled off his glasses and breathed on them, wiping them with a handkerchief that appeared from nowhere before resting them on his nose again. "You see, we at Landsdowne Realty specialize in acquiring large parcels of land for industrial purposes. Now this particular one used to belong to a Mr…" Face flipped up a piece of paper on his clipboard, and mimed reading the page underneath. "Ah, here it is. It belonged to a Mr. Hooperton. According to our records, the city seized the property after Mr. Hooperton's death, because Mr. Hooperton, it seems, was not a fan of paying taxes."

Garth did not stir from his stupor, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

Face blinked a few times as he waited for any kind of response from the shifty gentleman in front of him. Receiving none, he carried on, his voice perky. "At any rate, we became aware of this opportunity, and quick as you please, snapped it up, and for a very fair price, I might add." As he spoke the word 'snapped', Face snapped his fingers to emphasize his point; Garth looked like a man who needed visuals.

Hannibal saw an opportunity to jump in, and took it. "And lucky ol' me, I found Larry here, and I'm thinkin' this might just be the place for Wickersham Textiles to lay down stakes for our new warehouse."

Face turned to Hannibal with an eager smile, looking excited. "Gee, really, Mr. Wickersham? Oh, I knew you were a smart business man the minute I saw you! You're making a wise choice here, sir, a wise choice."

Garth finally regained his voice, growing agitated with the animated vignette in front of him. "Look," he bit out. "Like I told you earlier, this place ain't for sale. You two are in the wrong place, so why don't you just mosey on back to your boss, and tell him this ain't the place he bought." The man took a menacing step forward, pulling his shirt up slightly to show both men the butt of a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants.

Hannibal didn't flinch, but Face threw up his hands defensively. "Whoa, whoa. Listen sir, I feel pretty confident that my company owns this property. Perhaps you could come by the office, you know, and we could discuss this like reasonable men? I mean, there's no need to-"

Hannibal spoke up, cutting Face off. "Now, Larry," he soothed, walking over to Face and clapping a hand on his Lieutenant's back. "Any good cowboy knows that you just don't argue with a man when he's got a gun." He tugged the brim of his hat and nodded to Garth. "'Sides, this man sounds pretty confident. I reckon yer office made a mistake there, Larry. Matter of fact, I've got me an appointment with another realtor later today that I oughta be gettin' to. Maybe he can show me a place I can actually buy."

Face adopted a look of horror. "Mr. Wickersham, let me assure you, this place is for sale! If you'll just come with me back to my office…" Face trailed off, the tone of his voice one of sheer desperation.

"Well, Larry, how 'bout I get back to you tomorrow after I see how this afternoon's meetin' goes." Hannibal began walking towards the front door.

Face wheeled to look at Garth. "I'll bring the company lawyers!" he yelped. "I'll bring city officials! I'll…" He trailed off as he saw Garth's hand begin to inch towards his gun. Face swallowed. "Alright, fine, fine. Maybe I'll just send you a 'Thanks for Blowing the Deal,' card, huh?" Looking angry, he threw his clipboard on the floor, appearing for all intents and purposes like a man at the end of his rope. "But you don't fool me, Garth," he barked. "My company owns this place. I was 'Realtor of the Month' for four straight months! You think I got that by showing the wrong properties? I-" Face paused, acting as though his frustration had boiled to a point where he couldn't even speak any more. He whipped around to see Hannibal on his way out the door, then looked back at Garth, his attention appearing torn. He looked between Hannibal and Garth one final time, as though trying to decide which priority to pursue. He finally turned to Garth, threw up his hands and blurted, "Gah!", then immediately pivoted and ran after Hannibal. "Mr. Wickersham! Wait, Mr. Wickersham! If you'll just…"

Though thoroughly unsure of what had just happened, Garth could not help chuckling at the panic in 'Larry's' voice as he yelped and squealed, racing after the older man until they both disappeared from sight.


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: Sincerest apologies for the ridiculous lapse in posting, dear readers. My laptop went rogue and had to be sent away for repairs. When she came back, I realized I was writing some complex plot points that I was still tinkering with, and had to hold off on posting because as I went along, I'd realize I needed to go back and change details or add things in. As an added bonus though, you get not one but **two **exciting chapters! Hooray!_

_I'd also like to throw out a special, gigantic thank you to KennaC for her on-going support and encouragement. Plus, every time I read a new chapter from her, I'm instantly motivated to get back to work on my own stuff, in that her fabulous writing makes me so happy, I figure I oughta at least try to throw the same back out to the universe. If you're not reading her latest story, Fatal Recall, get the hell over there and do it right now. Er, wait... read my two new chapters, **then** get the hell over there. ;)_

_Read! Enjoy! Review! -C.A._

"I think Charlie's on the jazz."

Hannibal looked up from a blueprint in response to Face's observation. He glanced at the Lieutenant, then shifted his attention to Charlie, who had a very familiar look of excitement on her face.

Now returned from their very productive recon outing, Charlie and the team were once again gathered around the kitchen table that had become their make-shift war room. The blueprint Hannibal was studying had been provided courtesy of Face: armed with the confirmed address of the warehouse, the consummate conman had parlayed his real estate agent act into getting a set of blueprints from an accommodating, dowdy woman with thick glasses working in an equally dowdy city surveyor's office.

B.A. sat next to Hannibal, his Mohawk flattened in the middle by a set of headphones. Using a small transmitter he'd rigged up, he was listening intently for any noise being picked up by the small bug on the clipboard Face had intentionally left at the warehouse.

Charlie, meanwhile, was seated between Murdock and Face, and had been observing the men as they talked strategy. She tossed Face a slightly guilty smile in response to his observation. "Oh, come on, this stuff is kind of exciting!" she returned. "Sitting here, pouring over maps, talking weapons and strategy… it's like a movie, or something. Like _The Great Escape_."

"Or _Dr. Strangelove_," Face added dryly.

Hannibal chomped on his cigar and grinned at Charlie. "Hey, you're preaching to the choir here, honey." He turned back to his study of the blueprints. Pointing at a spot on the plans, Hannibal looked up at Murdock, and asked, "Think you could land a chopper here?"

Before Murdock could answer, B.A. held up a hand to silence the group. "Clipboard's picking something up," he explained as he pulled off his headphones and tugged their cord from the tape player's jack. Without headphones, the sound emanated from the player's single speaker, and five pairs of ears listened intently to the crackly conversation being transmitted from the hidden bug.

"…. came in here, blabbing about this place belonging to his company."

"And does it?"

"Don't know. Don't care. I scared 'em off; they won't be back." Hannibal and Face recognized the voice of Garth.

"You figure they were who they said they were?" asked the other unidentified voice.

"Seemed to be. I can tell you there's no way them two were cops."

"You check 'em for wires?" The unfamiliar voice held a distinctly accusatory note.

"Didn't need to," replied Garth. "Made sure I didn't say nothin' that would incriminate us."

There were a few seconds of silence as the unknown man considered Garth's words, then spoke again. "You don't think Rick's bitch coulda had anything to do with them two men showin' up, do you?"

Four sets of eyes flashed over to Murdock. His expression was stony, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. One hand clenched into a tight fist.

"Nah," Garth replied. "Not even she would be that stupid. She'd get her father killed. Don't worry man, she ain't sayin' nothin' at that trial."

"Yeah, well, she better not." The stranger punctuated his sentence with a snicker. "You believe that bitch turnin' on Rick? Fuck man, she's causin' us so much trouble, she better have at least been a good lay."

Garth snorted. "You see the body on her, man? You don't even wanna know the shit I woulda done to her if she wasn't Rick's girl."

Charlie squirmed in her seat, somewhere between rage and humiliation as she listened to Rick's henchmen and the repulsive turn their conversation had taken. Murdock placed a hand between her shoulder blades and moved it in small, soothing circles intended to offer Charlie at least a little comfort. Between Murdock's caring gesture and the four identical expressions of pity staring back at her, the room suddenly felt stifling. She stood. "I can't…" Her voice cracked a little as she struggled to keep her composure. She cleared her throat, shook her head, and took a deep breath. "Can you guys give me a call when this portion of the planning is over?" she finally managed to ask.

Murdock spoke before anyone else had the opportunity to. "Of course, sweetheart," he said, tamping down anger to speak gently as he stood. Seeing how hurt she was verged on being unbearable for the pilot. He reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze; he knew the gesture wouldn't do much to ease her obvious pain, but he didn't know what else to do. "Hang in there, darlin'," he said reassuringly.

She offered a weak smile and nodded. "Just gimme a heads-up when we're back to planning," she told the four men, all of whom nodded immediately. "Thanks," she murmured, then walked down the hall to the master bedroom, stepping in and closing the door behind her.

Murdock resisted the urge to run after her, to take her in his arms and reassure her everything would be okay. He blew out a long breath and returned to his seat at the table.

After a few more minutes of lewd exchanges, the two unwitting men finally reverted back to a conversation of use to the team.

"So, you figure we should let Rick know about those two chumps showing up?" the unknown man asked.

Face stiffened, looking indignant. "Chumps?!" he squeaked.

Murdock snickered; Hannibal shushed them both with a finger to his lips and a pointed glare.

"I'm tempted to say 'no', you know, so we don't have to put up with Rick spazzing out," Garth answered. "But if he checks the tapes and sees those two clowns, he'll know we didn't tell him and we'll be out of a job."

"Good point," returned the other man. "You wanna call him, or should I?"

"Nah, he's comin' tomorrow, so we'll just tell him then. Said he's got an appointment with his lawyer, so he's gonna come by after that. He figured he'd be here around 3 p.m."

"Alright, I guess it'll keep 'til –" The man stopped abruptly, and there were a few seconds of silence. "You hear that?"

"Hear what?" asked a bewildered Garth.

Again there was a brief period of silence, followed by the man saying, "I think I heard a crash back there."

"I didn't hear nothin'. You sure?"

"Pretty sure. The old man better pray it wasn't him makin' that noise."

"I dunno, I wouldn't mind an excuse to knock him around some," Garth admitted. "It'd gimme a chance to brush up on my skills. I'm tryin' to get back to my fighting weight, you know."

A snort was heard from the other man. "Your fighting weight?" he scoffed. "You sure it ain't your 'fighting-to-get-my-weight-into-pants-that-aren't-from-a- Big n' Tall-shop' weight?"

Face and Murdock both giggled in spite of themselves.

Garth was quick to respond, his tone defensive. "Hey, fuck you, man! I don't get my pants from no from no friggin' Big n' Tall shop! You know goddamned well I've been workin' out some, and I…"

The voices of both men trailed off as they walked away, presumably to the back of the building. Their footsteps grew fainter as they moved, the sound fading into silence.

Hannibal leaned back in his chair and lit a cigar. "These guys are making this too easy," he said between smoke plumes.

*****

Dinner that evening was an even more rambunctious event than usual. Humming with anticipation for tomorrow's rescue, Charlie watched the men wolf down more food than human biology would suggest possible, hassling one another with noisy enthusiasm between bites. She had to admit that the excitement was not only infectious, but fairly reassuring too. Not a single team member showed any trace of doubt about the success of tomorrow's operation.

Charlie herself had mixed feelings about the next day's rescue. Distant as he was, she still loved her father, and she knew springing him from Rick's clutches would bring her tremendous relief, and a much needed jolt of happiness. Her thoughts got muddier though when she considered what a successful mission would mean for herself and Murdock.

Sitting on the porch after an early dinner, Charlie sipped at a soothing cup of tea, allowing the comforting warmth of the mug to seep into her hands. Her thoughts were of Murdock, as they had been almost exclusively over the last few days. She knew she would miss him desperately once he returned to the V.A. without her. Her whole world was better with him around. When he was nearby, colors were brighter, the air seemed sweeter. The thought of never again feeling the way she felt when she was with Murdock was devastating.

Her quiet contemplation was mercifully cut short by Murdock poking his head out the front door. He bore a mischievous grin that made Charlie's stomach do flip-flops.

"Come with me, young lady," he announced. "I've got a little last-minute business for you and I to attend to."

Charlie raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing with suspicion even as a faint smile played about her lips. "What kind of business?"

"You'll see," Murdock replied with a wink.

"Can you at least tell me where we're going?"

"Just a short ways into the woods, so you might want to put on some pants." Murdock lowered his voice slightly, ensuring his next words were for Charlie's ears only. "Although, I gotta say, it seems almost sacrilegious to cover up a pair of legs as sexy as yours."

Charlie's cheeks reddened slightly at the compliment. She cleared her throat. "Yeah, speaking of that, do you really think it's a good idea for you and I to go into the woods alone?"

"Are you telling me you **don't** think it worked out well last time?" Murdock asked teasingly. "'Cause I gotta tell you, sweetheart-"

"Murdock." Charlie was quick to cut the Captain off, even as a warmth spread through her, flashes of their most recent evening together sliding through her mind like a miniature movie.

His face transformed into an amiable grin, and he threw up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, take it easy. Don't worry, B.A.'s coming with us. The man is a human cold shower."

Charlie looked at Murdock askew, scrunching up her face as she tried to figure out what in God's name he was up to.

Murdock rolled his eyes in response. "Oh for Pete's sake, just go get changed. If you keep sitting there, crinkling your nose and looking adorable, I won't be held responsible for what I do."

To emphasize his point, he stretched his arms out in a style more befitting of Frankenstein, making grabbing motions with his hands as he lunged forward. "Yaaaargggh…" he growled.

Charlie jumped to her feet, laughing, surprised to hear herself emit a girlie squeal as she leapt out of range of his hands and skirted around him with startling speed before darting into the cabin.

She quickly swapped out her shorts for a pair of jeans, and returned to the cabin porch, finding it now empty. She furrowed her brow and scanned the area, until her eyes fell on Murdock standing near the edge of the woods, gesturing for her to join him.

She strode towards him, looking suspicious. "Where's B.A.?" she asked, glancing around.

"I swear, he's already there," the Captain insisted.

Charlie appraised him carefully, and decided he looked sincere. "He'd better be," she muttered.

Murdock pointed at his head. "Look at this face, darlin'. Would this face lie to you?" He grinned broadly as he spoke, then grabbed for her hand. He allowed himself the small luxury of interlacing his fingers with hers, then headed into the woods, tugging at her arm as he pulled her along behind him.

*****

Charlie and Murdock emerged from the dense brush after a twenty-minute hike. They stepped into a clearing bordered on the far end by an old, rotting fence constructed of thick, fallen cedar trees, the structure likely the remnants of some ancient property border. B.A. was standing near the fence, mountains of gold flashing in the sun, making Charlie feel like she'd just stumbled onto some hidden cache of treasure.

"'Bout time you got here!" he hollered as the couple approached. He noted that although the couple came into view holding hands, they both dropped one another's hands almost simultaneously at the sound of his voice, like each of them had just realized they were holding a hot poker between them.

Murdock shrugged out of his leather jacket as he neared B.A., and tossed it on a section of fence. "Oh, you know women, B.A.," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "They take **forever** to get ready." He drew his words out melodramatically, clearly enjoying his own hammy performance.

Charlie scowled and punched Murdock in the shoulder. "Jackass," she growled, then turned to B.A. "He wouldn't actually tell me where we were going." She jerked her thumb at Murdock. "Would **you** go anywhere with this guy if he wouldn't tell you where?"

B.A. snorted. "I try not to go anywhere with this fool when I **know** where we're going."

Murdock adopted a petulant pout. "I'm feeling distinctly outnumbered here," he complained.

Charlie smiled triumphantly. For the first time, she took a look around, and noticed a line of bottles and cans arranged along the top of the fence. She turned to both men, confusion etched on her face. "Uh… what are we doing here?" she asked apprehensively.

B.A. stepped to one side and revealed a sizeable steel lock-box. Murdock leaned down and popped it open, gleefully producing a small hand gun. He stood and held the gun out to Charlie, cradling it on his flat, up-turned palm. "Before we throw down tomorrow, we wanna make sure you know your way around a gun. We don't expect you'll need to use it, but we like to be prepared." He made a wide sweeping gesture across the clearing. "Welcome to the firing range, sweetheart," he declared.

Charlie threw up her hands and took a step back from Murdock's outstretched hand. "Oh no," she blurted, sounding panicked. "No, no, no, no. Murdock, I don't believe in guns."

He rolled his eyes and looked over to B.A. "And they call me crazy," he quipped, then turned his attention back to Charlie. "Darlin', how can you not believe in them? Look at my hand! That's a gun right there! It's not like not believing in Santa Claus, where there's a choice because you can't see him. You gotta believe in guns!" He emphatically looked down at his hand again. "Look! This is a gun!"

Charlie frowned, irritated, though mildly amused. "You know damn well that is not what I meant," she growled. "I mean, I don't believe in using them, so I'm sure as hell not gonna learn to shoot one." She crossed her arms, tilting her chin at a defiant angle. She flashed Murdock a look that dared him to challenge her.

The pilot sighed. "Honey, that's a lovely belief. It really is. Problem is, Rick **does** believe in guns."

"And so do all them dudes who work for him," B.A. added.

Charlie remained silent, though Murdock could sense her insistent refusal to learn how to shoot was wavering ever so slightly. He seized upon that slight waver and decided to try a different tact. "Okay, how about this," he began. "If the team is worried about your safety during the rescue, we'll be distracted, and that's dangerous. If we know you're armed and ready to defend yourself, we can focus on the mission."

Charlie's expression turned plaintive. "Oh come on, that's not fair, Murdock."

Murdock raised his hands and shrugged. "Fair or not, it's the truth," he told her. "Look, after tomorrow, you can live the rest of your life without ever touching a gun again. But being armed and ready tomorrow is the best way to ensure you **have** a 'rest of your life'."

Both men watched as Charlie scrutinized them, long, silent moments ticking by as she appeared to contemplate Murdock's argument. Finally, she blew out an exasperated breath and muttered, "Alright, alright. Let's do this."

"Hooray!" whooped Murdock.

"Crazy fool," B.A. grunted.

"We'll start here," the Captain said, walking to a spot about twenty feet from the fence, beckoning for Charlie to follow.

She sighed and moved to join him. B.A. opted to hang back and survey the scene with great interest.

When Charlie stood next to him, Murdock held the gun out to her, butt first. "Alright, this is a Smith and Wesson M59," he told her. Charlie recoiled and looked at the weapon like it was a poisonous viper being offered. Murdock groaned with frustration and grabbed her hand, pressing the gun into her palm. "Safety's on," he assured her.

Charlie looked down at the silver-plated piece she held, turning it over several times, feeling the cool metal against her skin.

Murdock reached out and put a hand on each of her shoulders, turning her towards the fence and stepping behind her. "Okay," he began. "Bring it up in front of you, and level it at your target."

Charlie's hands were shaking slightly as she raised the gun, and tried to line it up with a bottle.

Smiling, Murdock called out to B.A. "Uh, Big Guy? You might wanna move some."

B.A. nodded and took a few very generous steps away from his post at the fence.

Murdock reached around Charlie with both arms and clasped both her hands in his, steadying them. He immediately questioned the wisdom behind the move as the strawberry scent of her shampoo filled his nostrils, the heady aroma lifting him instantly from the clearing, and depositing him squarely into the room he and Charlie had shared in Face's purloined apartment.

Suddenly, Charlie looked back over her shoulder with a smirk. "Happy to see me, Captain?" she asked quietly, clearly trying to hold back laughter.

Returning to his senses, Murdock realized the evidence of his arousal was blatantly poking Charlie in the small of her back. "Oh my God," he muttered with mild embarrassment, bending slightly to pull his pelvis away from her. Dipping his head, he murmured in her ear, "See what you do to me, darlin'?"

Charlie snorted. "Just remember I'm holding a gun," she retorted without turning her head, even as she tried to ignore her own arousal.

"Hey!" hollered B.A. "Are we doing this, or what?"

Murdock released his grasp on one of Charlie's hands, and held his hand up to B.A., smiling apologetically. "Sorry, Big Guy. Here we go."

He covered Charlie's hand with his own again, guiding her arms upwards and steadying them. "Okay, don't lock your elbows," he instructed her. When she complied, he reached for the gun and released the safety, then continued. "Now, you're gonna feel a little recoil when you fire; the gun'll jump up and back a little."

Focusing her stare on a bottle, Charlie nodded.

"You wanna look straight down the barrel," Murdock continued, his breath warm on her neck. "Line it up directly with the target."

Charlie nodded and followed the directions.

Her tongue poked out from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated. _God, she's perfect, _Murdock thought, his chest feeling tight as he grinned at the endearing tic. He shook his head in an attempt to refocus. "Now, just squeeze the trigger, and fire," he told her.

Charlie looked hesitantly over her shoulder at Murdock, and he nodded. She took a deep breath. Slowly, nervously, she crooked her index finger and began to pull the trigger, curling her finger towards herself in tiny increments as her body tensed in anticipation.

Suddenly, a sharp, loud crack pierced the air and the gun jumped. Charlie simultaneously let out a surprised, "oh!" Across the clearing, a bottle exploded on the top of the fence.

Murdock stepped back and placed a hand on top of his baseball hat, his mouth open in surprise. "Oh my God, you hit it!" he exclaimed, a note of pride in his voice.

Looking every bit as surprised as Murdock was, Charlie's mouth turned up at the corners as she allowed the gun to drop to her side. "Um… I was aiming for that one," she confessed, pointing with her free hand at a bottle two targets to the right of the one she had hit.

Murdock's impressed look dissolved into one of amusement as he began to snicker. "Still, 'A' for effort," he declared between chuckles.

"How'd it feel, Charlie?" B.A. called, his smile a clear sign that he was thoroughly enjoying watching Charlie's indoctrination into the world of guns.

Looking sheepish, Charlie responded, "Um, I hate to say this, but I suppose it was just a little bit thrilling." Glancing at Murdock and sensing she was about to get hit with an 'I-told-you-so' from him, she hollered over to B.A. in the sweetest voice she could muster, "Sergeant, you're so handsome when you smile! You really should do it more often!"

She couldn't say for sure, but Charlie thought she might have seen a hint of pink on the Sergeant's dark features.

Murdock, conversely, looked entirely annoyed, even feeling an irrational tug of jealousy. "Aw, c'mon, Charlie. You see how big that head is?" he asked, jutting his chin in B.A.'s direction. "Don't make it swell any bigger. The man already has to buy his hats custom-made."

B.A.'s smile disappeared. "Don't lie to the lady, Crazy Man!" he snapped. He switched his gaze to Charlie. "That ain't true, Mama."

Charlie laughed while the two men glared at one another. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," she soothed. "I believe I still need some training here?"

Murdock and B.A. continued grimacing at one another until B.A. finally put an end to the standoff. "Teach the lady to shoot, fool," he grumbled.

Murdock's posture relaxed and his lips curved slowly into the smile that made Charlie's stomach do funny things every time she saw it. The pilot turned to her and spread both arms wide in an invitation for her to join him. "Assume the position?" he prompted, a slight darkening of his eyes hinting at the double entendre in his words.

Charlie moved in front of him again and raised the gun towards a spot along the top of the fence. Murdock laid his hands on Charlie's hips and rotated them so that she was squared with her with her next target, then indulgently left his hands where they rested, crooking his fingers slightly to turn the contact of his hands with her hips into a subtle caress.

Before pulling the trigger again, Charlie turned her head slightly and in a low voice, tossed over her shoulder, "I'll say it again, flyboy: don't forget who has the gun here." Then she smiled a devious smile and let a bullet rip.

*****

The sun was just disappearing over distant tree tops when Murdock, B.A., and Charlie returned from their makeshift target practice. Though Charlie wouldn't qualify as an expert marksman any time soon, both Murdock and B.A. were satisfied that she would at least know what to do with a gun if the time came when she needed to use one.

As the trio piled into the house, Murdock and B.A. both flopped into empty seats at the kitchen table with Hannibal and Face. Charlie, on the other hand, moved to the opposite side of the room and plucked her purse from an end table. "Would it be alright if I used the phone in the van?" she asked Hannibal. "I've gotta call Viv, and make sure she knows what to do if…" her voice trailed off for a moment, and she swallowed hard. "You know, if anything goes wrong tomorrow."

Hannibal held Charlie in a steady gaze and took a long haul off the cigar he was smoking, thoughtfully savouring the rich, smoky taste in his mouth. He finally exhaled, and said confidently, "Sweetheart, nothing's gonna go wrong tomorrow. But you're more than welcome to call her. I'm sure you have lots of…" his eyes swung to Murdock pointedly, then returned to Charlie. "Lots of things to discuss." The Colonel smiled knowingly, while Charlie blushed and Face rolled his eyes.

"Er, thanks," Charlie managed before hurrying from the room.

*****

"So, what's it gonna be, young lady?"

Charlie sighed into the phone receiver at her friend's query. Though she had called Vivian for practical purposes, Vivian was refusing to listen to any of Charlie's instructions until Charlie updated her on the situation with Murdock. "Alright, alright," Charlie finally conceded. "What is it you want to know?"

On her end of the phone, Vivian smiled and lit a cigarette. "Well, for starters, have you got any more action to report?"

"Viv, you do realize we're all up here planning a rescue, right?" Charlie asked evasively.

"Oh, so there **has **been more of the good stuff!" Vivian exclaimed. "Okay, let's go. Out with it." Her tone left little room for argument.

Charlie grimaced and grumbled, "Jerk," though she smiled even as she said it. She took a deep breath and tried to give Vivian the most basic account she could of her encounter with Murdock on the evening of the test flight. Vivian, however, was not satisfied with vague descriptions and euphemisms, and managed to wrangle a very detailed, descriptive retelling from Charlie.

When her friend had finished her story, Vivian let out a low whistle. "So, let me get this straight," she began. "You had sex you weren't supposed to be having, in what was more or less a public place, while **standing up**? That's like the fucking trifecta of hot sex!" The lilt in Viv's voice told Charlie that her friend was clearly enjoying herself. Taking a long pull on her cigarette, Vivian continued. "I gotta tell you Charlie, I wouldn't have guessed the boy had it in him."

Charlie laughed. "And why wouldn't he?" she queried.

"I don't know, he's just so sweet and goofy and silly," Vivian responded, with a shrug. "I mean, running around in those high-top Cons like a big kid, drawing moustaches on people… I just never woulda seen it coming!" Vivian finished.

Charlie couldn't help grinning, Vivian's description highlighting characteristics of Murdock that Charlie found thoroughly charming and endearing. "You know, I was with Rick for so long, but I had no idea sex could be so…" Charlie paused, searching for an adequate descriptor for the bliss she had found with Murdock. "… so incredible, until now," she finished.

Viv snorted. "Yeah, that fucker pretty much sucked in all categories. I bet it was like having sex with a selfish jackrabbit."

"When did you put a camera in Rick's bedroom?" Charlie teased, snickering.

Charlie heard Vivian giggle and take another drag on her cigarette. "And did you tell Murdock yet?" she wanted to know.

Charlie furrowed her brow. "Tell him what?" she asked, thoroughly confused.

"That you're in love with him," Vivian returned matter-of-factly.

There was a moment of stunned silence, Charlie caught completely off guard by Vivian's blunt question. "Who says I'm in love with him?" she finally replied, sounding almost guilty.

Vivian rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Charlie," Vivian sighed with exasperation. "Even a blind man could see you're nuts about this guy. Do you realize your voice completely changes when you even mention his name?"

"It does not!" Charlie exclaimed defensively.

"Oh it does so, you dink," Vivian asserted with finality. "Honey, just think about it. Way down inside, you know you're in love with the man."

Charlie mulled over Vivian's words for a few moments, allowing herself to consider feelings she had tried desperately to ignore. At last, she blew out a long breath. "Oh my God… I think I might be," she conceded, sounding a little awestruck.

.Her voice rife with sarcasm, Vivian responded, "No kidding."

"Shit," Charlie muttered.

"'Shit'?" echoed Viv. "How does being in love with Murdock merit a 'shit'? 'Shit' is what you say when you wake up one day and realize you have feelings for a jackass like Rick Torres." She took a long pull on her cigarette before continuing. "Charlie, honey, I know you've been out of the dating pool for a **long** time, but guys like Murdock simply do **not** exist in that pool. Sweet, supportive, considerate men who will gladly put aside their dicks to focus on your happiness are pretty much non-existent in the dating world. In fact, he may be the only one."

Charlie chuckled. "Viv, I think you might be exaggerating just a little."

"Don't I wish," Vivian returned with a sigh.

"At any rate, I believe I ran down all the reasons why Murdock and I can't work when you were out here."

"And I believe I told you that if you two crazy kids are in love, you'll find a way to make it work," Viv promptly reminded her friend.

"And I still can't figure out how we could ever do that," Charlie said wearily.

"Hey, don't get all hopeless on me," Vivian chided. "We can figure this out, hon." Viv puffed away on her cigarette for a moment. "In fact, as a testament to my ability to figure things out, I know why Murdock lives in the V.A.," she announced. "He's Hamlet."

Charlie frowned. "He's Hamlet?"

"Yeah!" confirmed Viv. "In _Hamlet_, Hamlet's dad is murdered, so Hamlet decides to **act** crazy, because when people think you're crazy, you can get way more shit done. You know, so Hamlet can stalk his prime suspect all over the castle, he can ask questions without raising suspicion, people tell him all kinds of stuff that they wouldn't normally tell him because they figure it's pretty safe to tell a crazy guy your secret, given that if he blabs, people will just dismiss it as a crazy guy being crazy… Plus, it makes people naturally uncomfortable around him, so they don't ask questions; they pretty much avoid him, and let him do what he wants. Therefore," Viv declared, sounding very proud of herself, "Murdock is totally Hamlet, Charlie!"

On her end of the phone, Charlie smiled. Only Vivian could use the phrase 'get more shit done' in a summary of one of the greatest works in English literature, and have it sound scholarly. "Alright, I'm pretty impressed," she conceded. "But, um… doesn't Hamlet's girlfriend kill herself in the play?"

"Well, yes, but…" Vivian grimaced as she cast about for a rebuttal, but found none. "Damnit, the analogy still stands," she finally huffed.

Charlie laughed. "Although," she began, her tone thoughtful, "it does seem like a plausible reason for why Murdock opted to put down roots in the V.A. I mean, the man sneaks out of there on a regular basis and runs around with fugitives, and somehow manages to avoid all suspicion for the most part." Charlie's mind drifted back to her conversations with Murdock during the long drive to Montana, a trip that now seemed like it had happened a lifetime ago. She remembered Murdock's recountings of visits from Army MPs. "The few times anyone has showed up to question him, all he has to do is ramp up the crazy, and the questioners bolt."

Vivian lit another cigarette, nodding into the receiver. "It's a solid strategy," she remarked. "I mean, even if a dude commits **murder**, he can plead insanity and be off the hook."

"I'll make sure to tell Murdock about your theory, Viv," Charlie said, giggling. "So, **now **can we get to the instructions portion of this phone call?"

Vivian blew out a long, melodramatic sigh. "Fine," she said, finally giving in.

"Good," Charlie declared. "Okay, so tomorrow's gonna be a dangerous day for us. And just in case something happens to me-"

Charlie was immediately cut off. "'If something happens to you,'?!" Viv blurted, panic edging into her voice. "What do you mean, 'if something happens to you'? Charlie, are you telling me by tomorrow night, I could be out a best friend?"

"Incredibly unlikely," Charlie quickly soothed.

Charlie's lack of complete certainty about her safety only served to frighten the other woman more. "But it is **possible**?" Viv demanded to know.

Charlie exhaled a long breath. "Of course it's possible," she said, trying to keep her voice calm. "But it's also possible I could get hit by a car tomorrow. Either way, I need to make sure I've got my affairs in order, and that's where you come in."

"Goddamn it, Charlie," Vivian muttered. The anxiety she felt was completely foreign to her, and she bit her lower lip and tried to keep the worry from her voice. "Alright, if you think we need to do this, then go on."

A feeling of guilt bubbled to the surface for Charlie, recognizing how terrifying the worst-case scenario preparations must be for Vivian. But guilt or no guilt, Charlie had no choice but to enlist Vivian's help. She took a deep breath, asked Viv to get pen and paper, and began to outline what was essentially an impromptu will.

Charlie started by giving Vivian the last known phone number she had for her mother. "On the off chance anything goes wrong, just phone the number and let her know," she said to Vivian, her tone flat and apathetic. "If it's not her number anymore, don't worry about it. If Hell freezes over someday and she decides to actually check in with one of her children, she can figure out what's happened to me on her own." For years, Charlie had made every effort to be forgiving about her mother's short-comings and poor decisions, but her mother's continued absence and complete severing of ties with her children had wiped away Charlie's determination to be understanding, leaving her bitter and angry towards the woman who had given birth to her.

The next order of business concerned Fenlon's now-empty house. She was more than happy to leave it to Viv, and Charlie informed her that she could sell it, keep it, rent it out, or do whatever else she might want to do with it. "If you rent it or sell it, the money's all yours, Viv."

Vivian sighed. "You don't want to let someone in your family have the money?" she asked.

"Oh God, no," came Charlie's immediate reply. "Besides Viv, you're more family to me than anyone I share blood with, now that Fenlon's gone."

Viv blinked back tears. Desperate to add some levity to the situation, she said, "That reminds me of something I've been meaning to ask you. If anything ever happens to **me**, I need you to come clean out my stash of porn and toys before anyone in my family cleans out my apartment. I keep it all in a box on the floor of my bedroom closet. Oh, and help yourself," she added as an afterthought.

Charlie laughed a deep, throaty laugh, grateful for the diversion from the heavy conversation taking place. "It would be my pleasure," Charlie informed her friend through chuckles.

When her giggling finally subsided, Charlie reluctantly returned to the remainder of her instructions, providing Viv with bank information so Charlie's meagre savings could be transferred to Vivian. She also gave Viv Jake's phone number, wanting him to be aware should the worst happen, knowing that if she didn't make it to court to testify, an uninformed Jake would make it his life's work to find out what had happened.

With the last of her requests finally relayed, Charlie took a deep breath and said, "Okay, that's it."

There was silence for a few moments, the gravity and danger of tomorrow's rescue mission weighing heavily on the consciences of both women. Charlie thought she heard sniffling on the other end. "Viv?" she asked softly, after a time.

"Yeah. Charlie, I-" Vivian's voice cracked, and she cleared her throat before speaking again. "Charlie, I love you," she finally managed to get out. "And you better fucking call me the exact **second** you succeed at springing your dad. Tell Murdock I will personally kick his ass if anything happens to you."

Charlie smiled. "I have no doubt you will," she said wryly. "And I love you too, Viv."

Neither woman spoke for a few beats, then Charlie and Vivian quietly said their goodbyes. "I'll talk to you tomorrow when you're back safe and sound," Vivian declared, hoping she sounded more assured than she felt.

"Yes, you definitely will, Vivian," Charlie returned, and both women reluctantly hung up.

*****

Charlie woke the next morning long before her alarm clock went off. She sat up and rubbed at her eyes, which felt scratchy and dry from a lack of sleep, while her nervous stomach did queasy cartwheels. The combination reminded her why she hated mornings so much. She rose and trudged to the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee. As she listened to the familiar drip-drip of coffee brewing, she glanced out the window over the kitchen sink, and saw that the morning outside looked almost as miserable as she felt. The sky was bleak and gray, and drizzling rain fell on trees; the accumulating water was causing the trees to droop, making them look as though they too were in a foul mood.

Once the smell of coffee began to permeate the cabin, it wasn't long before the men began to wander in one by one for a cup. As the coffee machine's carafe began to slowly fill with aromatic brown liquid, Charlie busied herself making breakfast. She cracked a full carton of eggs and cooked up enough sausage to make a whole new pig. She made a plate for each team member, and though each plate was piled high with food, all four men had picked clean their dishes before Charlie even sat down to eat hers.

Hannibal waited patiently for Charlie to finish her breakfast; the moment she swallowed her last bite, the Colonel stacked all the empty plates on top of one another, pushed the column of dishes to the end of the table, and reached into a knapsack he had left on the floor, next to his chair. He withdrew from the bag the building plans for the warehouse they were infiltrating today, and unfurled them on the table. "Okay guys, one more quick run-through of the plan before we go," he announced.

The adrenaline around the table was nearly palpable as all five of them recited and clarified from memory their respective roles in the pending operation.

Once Hannibal was satisfied that everyone was clear on the details of the plan, he sat back and folded his arms across his chest. "Remember to establish radio contact at least once every thirty minutes." Then, with his cigar clamped tightly between his teeth, he declared, "All right guys, let's do this."

As everyone stood and prepared to leave, Charlie noted that even in their basic movements to get ready and head out, all four men worked as one cohesive unit. No communication was necessary as each man grabbed a duffle bag, turned his walkie-talkie to the designated channel, and selected firearms and grenades from a strong box residing next to the couch. They moved with a startling synchronicity, no man ever getting in the way of another, and Charlie was briefly reminded of synchronized swimmers performing in the Olympics. A mental image of B.A. in a bathing cap adorned with huge rubber flowers popped into her head and she bit back a smile.

Outside, B.A. and Face walked toward the van; Charlie and Murdock paused on the porch. Murdock turned to look at Charlie. "You ready?" he asked, his concern obvious.

Charlie nodded. "Think so," she replied.

"Got your gun?" Murdock asked. Charlie thought she heard a hint of smugness in the question.

She rolled her eyes. "Yes," she sighed.

The cabin door opened and shut behind them as Hannibal walked out of the house. "Thirty seconds, Captain," he informed the pair as he walked past, his face momentarily revealing a brief second or two of sympathy.

Murdock bobbed his head to indicate his understanding. He then returned his gaze to Charlie, searching her eyes with his. They stood face-to-face.

Feeling the intimacy of the moment weighing heavily on her, Charlie sought to lighten the moment, saying, "By the way, Viv says if anything happens to me, she'll kick your ass."

Murdock laughed, looking a little relieved by the levity himself. "Ouch. And that girl could totally take me in a fight too," he remarked without a hint of sarcasm. He took a deep breath, raised his hand, and placed it on Charlie's shoulder, using a slight squeeze to offer comfort. "Everything will go fine today, Charlie." His voice was hushed. "It'll all be okay."

Charlie watched his eyes intently as he spoke, the conviction in his tone as plain as day. "I know," she told him.

He took his hand from her shoulder and laid it gently, almost reverently, along her cheek, feeling the eyes of his team mates in the van on him as he did so. Charlie thought he looked nervous. "Charlie, I…" His voice caught in his throat, and his tongue seemed glued to the roof of his mouth. He cleared his throat. "I…" Again he found that though he knew what he wanted to say, the words simply would not come.

Charlie brought her hand to her cheek and covered his hand with her own. "What is it, Murdock?" she prodded gently.

A warmth began to seep through Murdock, beginning where her smaller hand covered his. A loud honk came from the van. The pilot sighed and allowed his hand to drop to his side. "You'd better go," he murmured. "I'll see you tonight, honey." He turned and walked to the helicopter as Charlie watched.

Charlie spared herself one last longing look at Murdock's retreating form, then began moving towards the van. She had only gone a few feet when she heard the distinct sound of footsteps behind her. She looked back over her shoulder.

Murdock was striding towards her purposefully, his long legs carrying him briskly towards her at an accelerated pace. His determination was blatant, even from a distance.

Knitting her brows together as he drew near, Charlie opened her mouth to ask what he'd forgotten.

She was silenced before she could speak. Murdock grabbed her hand and yanked her to him, covering her lips with his own in a passionate, hungry kiss. He encircled her with his arms, tightening his hold until she was flush against him. Caught off guard, she clung to him, and after a brief moment of surprise, she responded with equal fervour.

In deference to the time restraint they were under, he had no choice but to end the kiss after fifteen seconds or so, leaving Charlie breathless. He reached up and cradled Charlie's head in his hands, tilting her face so that they were staring directly into one another's eyes. Speaking with a sincerity and an intensity that made time stand still, Murdock said softly, "I love you, Charlotte Burchell."

He then kissed her tenderly on the forehead, and before Charlie could respond, he turned and walked back in the direction of the helicopter, leaving behind a stunned Charlie.

*****

"Face, have I lost my ability to be threatening with the team?"

Watching his friend head off in the direction of the helicopter, a surprised Face looked over at the Colonel, who was puffing away on a cigar, his face drawn into a frown. "What?" the Lieutenant asked, confused. He glanced back out the front window, staring curiously at Charlie, who had yet to move, and stood momentarily frozen in surprise.

Hannibal chomped at his cigar thoughtfully. "I told Murdock he needed to keep things neutral with Charlie until the mission was over. Now I could be wrong, but I think I just saw him tell her he loved her. And we **all** just saw him plant that kiss on her."

B.A. giggled his peculiar high-pitched giggle. "Didn't know Crazy Man had it in 'im," he remarked.

Face rolled his eyes. "Now Hannibal, don't get all pouty. I still feel threatened by you," he reassured him. "And maybe he didn't say 'I love you'. Maybe he said…" He paused thoughtfully, racking his brain for a suitable alternative. "Maybe he said 'elephant shoe'," he finally suggested lamely.

"Elephant shoe?!" B.A. exclaimed in disbelief, before giving in to laughter. "**Why** would he come back to say 'elephant shoe'?!"

"Olive juice?" Face offered, clearly amused and deliberately ignoring Hannibal's scowl.

"Hall of Fuel?" B.A. managed through snickers.

"Damnit, I really am less threatening," Hannibal grumbled as the two other men in the van doubled over laughing.

*****

Charlie felt almost grateful when the van finally pulled up - strategically arriving long before Rick was scheduled to - in front of the warehouse, knowing it would provide her with a welcome respite from the smirks she'd been subjected to throughout the entire drive. She knew all three men had played witness to the fiery kiss she'd shared with Murdock, but there hadn't been a single mention of it during the trip to the building they were targeting. Instead, Hannibal, Face, and B.A. had opted to hassle her on a psychological level using knowing looks and suggestive grins.

Murdock's declaration of love had sparked an overwhelming glut of emotions in Charlie. She wanted desperately to embrace his love, to wrap herself in it and immerse herself in the wonderful promises of happiness inherent to love. Still, she struggled to ignore her feelings, continually reminding herself of the impossibility of a relationship with Murdock. A small part of her even felt a spark of anger towards the pilot: he knew just as well as she that they had no future together, and his confession of love would make the unavoidable goodbye infinitely more painful.

She was eventually snapped from her reverie by B.A. as he slipped the van into park. Hannibal twisted in the front passenger seat so that he was facing Charlie. "Know what you're doing, kiddo?" he asked, surrounded by smoke from his ever-present cigar.

Charlie nodded. "I'm the wheelman," she confirmed. "You think the catwalk you saw inside leads to the roof, where you can be picked up by Murdock, but in case it doesn't, you'll return to the van with my father so we can all split."

Hannibal smiled broadly. "You're a quick study, kid," he told her. "Ever think about going into the soldier of fortune business?"

"Sure, but my high school guidance counsellor advised me not to," Charlie replied smoothly.

Hannibal chuckled. "Too bad," he commented. "If we can get to the chopper, and I suspect we will, we'll radio to tell you, and we'll all meet back at the cabin. Got it?"

"Got it," Charlie confirmed quickly. She looked around the van, meeting each man's eyes. "Good luck, gentlemen."

Hannibal smiled with blatant excitement. "Thanks kiddo, but we don't need luck." He cracked a window and heard the thundering rumble of helicopter rotors slicing through the air high above. "That's our cue, guys," he announced, his blue eyes sparkling.

Face nodded and slid open the side panel door while Hannibal and B.A. jumped out of the front seats. Charlie squeezed between the front seats and slid into B.A.'s recently vacated seat behind the wheel. Hannibal turned back once and called, "See ya soon!"

Charlie closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that Hannibal was right about his parting words.


	11. Chapter 11

Face was first inside the warehouse, having been instructed to reprise his real estate agent role; the tactic allowed the team to have a man inside without instigating immediate defensive manouvers from Rick's men.

"Hellooooo?" Face called out as he stepped in the door, his voice a high, fey trill.

Some cussing sounded from a nearby backroom, accompanied by metal scraping against metal. After some distant rustling, the familiar, greasy face of Garth poked out from a shadow in the rear of the building. Shrewd eyes scanned the room, widening as they fell on Face. "Oh, you have **got** to be kidding me," he growled.

"Now, that's no way to greet an old friend!" Face exclaimed jovially.

"Look Jack, I ain't no friend, and I already told you, you ain't wanted here." Garth's hand drifted to his side and hovered over his sidearm, being obvious in his movements to make sure his intentions were made clear to the intruder.

While Face attempted to calm Garth down some with apologetic ramblings, B.A. took the opportunity to disable the interior cameras. Hannibal had marked on a map the locations of the cameras he'd spotted during his Clarence Wickersham the Third performance, providing B.A. with detailed knowledge on where to place the scramblers he'd recently acquired. Each scrambling unit was outfitted with tiny suction cups so it could be attached to a wall, and emitted a frequency that would jam up any signal from a nearby camera. Wherever Hannibal had marked an interior camera, the Sergeant attached a scrambler in the corresponding location on the exterior side of the wall.

When the last unit was in place, B.A. returned to Hannibal, and gave the Colonel a thumbs-up. "Ready, Hannibal," he announced.

Hannibal nodded. "Nice work, Sergeant," he said briskly. "Gimme thirty seconds, then come on in."

Back inside, Face was continuing with his role in the plan. "Oh, Garth, I feel just awful that we got off to such a rocky start. There's no reason we can't discuss this like rational men, is there?" He took a step forward and stretched his arms out to the side. "How about we hug and start again?"

Garth looked entirely horrified as he took a step back, thrown completely off kilter by Face's seemingly ludicrous suggestion. "Hey, back off, man!" he blurted, quickly backing away.

Face did his best to look hurt. "Garth, come on, we can't work together with negative feelings between us." As he spoke, he took another few steps towards the now-skittish thug.

"Dude, I told you to back off!" Garth yelped, continuing to step backwards, moving farther and farther from the front door as he did. "I don't want no fucking hug!"

"Gee, that's too bad," came the confident, even tone of Hannibal. With Garth on the other side of the room, Hannibal had managed to slip in unnoticed and slide remote-detonator devices behind the two stacks of drums marked 'flammable' that rose like small, metal mountains in opposite corners at the end of the room closest to the door.

Garth's head snapped up in the direction of the vaguely familiar voice he was hearing. His eyes narrowed when he saw Hannibal. "You again?" he sneered.

"That's right, Garth," Hannibal replied, his broad grin making Garth feel instantly uneasy. Hannibal paused as B.A. walked in the door, and moved to stand next to him. The Sergeant made a fist with one hand and began to punch the palm of his other hand over and over. He glowered menacingly at Garth, who looked a little ill.

Hannibal plucked a cigar from his breast pocket and bit the end off. "Now," he began, bringing the cigar to his lips and lighting it before inhaling deeply. "We're going to be taking that lovely man you're holding hostage back there," he declared, jerking a thumb at the back room from which telling noises had originated yesterday. "You could save yourself a lot of pain here, Garth, if you just let us grab him, and we'll be on our merry way." Hannibal's tone was cocky and confident.

Garth furrowed his brow and attempted to screw his face up into the most threatening manner he could. "You ain't takin' him, jackass," he snarled, his voice wavering almost imperceptibly.

Hannibal shrugged and continued to smile disarmingly. "Alright, if you wanna do this the hard way, that's fine with us. Gentlemen?" he asked, looking at Face, then B.A.

B.A. nodded, and he and Hannibal began to advance on Garth.

In response, Garth immediately went for his gun, but before he could grab it, Face had launched himself at the thug in a spectacular flying tackle. Garth went down hard, and his gun skittered across the floor and out of reach. Pinned, he shoved Face off of him and stood, finding Hannibal directly in front of him. Though Hannibal had prepared for the fight by tucking a pistol into the waistband at the back of his pants, he held off on reaching for it, preferring hand-to-hand combat when possible. Garth took a wild swing at the Colonel, who ducked it easily, then retaliated with a punch of his own, landing it squarely on Garth's jaw.

A heavy door in the rear of the room slid open, and two men, alerted by the commotion, rushed out, looking around wide-eyed. "What the fuck-?" one of them hollered. After a brief moment of shock, both men rushed towards their fallen colleague at break-neck speed, snarling and growling, hands already clenched into fists as they approached.

B.A. stepped directly into the path of the oncoming enemies, drawing himself up to his full height, his body tensing in anticipation.

Both henchmen faltered slightly in their movements at the sight of the muscle-bound Sergeant now blocking their intended path. One of the men, a filthy cretin with a lumbering gait, wisely redirected himself and cut a large arc around B.A. before continuing towards Face and Hannibal.

The other lackey, however, found himself feeling confident, and after a moment of hesitation, walked straight up to B.A. and threw a meaty fist at the side of the Sergeant's face.

B.A.'s head was snapped to one side from the force of the punch. The brazen henchman responsible for the blow grinned viciously, knowing his fist had connected full force against B.A.'s head. The grin quickly dissolved a few seconds later, however, when B.A. didn't go down from the hit; instead, he slowly turned his face back to the man, unfazed, looking as though the punch had never even happened. A look of terror took the place of the man's grin, and seeing B.A. pull back his arm to retaliate, the man managed to squeak out, "Shit!" just as B.A.'s knuckles collided with the man's temple, and the world went black.

Meanwhile, Hannibal had been landing a few punches of his own, and the second unknown man now joined B.A.'s victim in unconsciousness. In keeping with the plan, Garth had been kept conscious. Currently restrained by Face with the use of a full nelson, Garth's eyes stormed with hate and anger.

"You think you're getting outta here with the old man?" he snarled at Hannibal. "Think again, asshole. There's three more guys upstairs who are gonna see you on the cameras. They're coming to kill you right now. All of you, you sons of bitches."

Hannibal laughed confidently. He looked to B.A. and Face. "Don't you just love how dirtbags always think their dirtbag friends are gonna come to the rescue?" He turned his attention back to Garth. "I mean, they're dirtbags, Garth! They don't care about anyone but themselves."

Garth thrashed in vain against the hold Face had him in, then spit on the ground in front of Hannibal. "Fuck you," he ground out, enraged.

Hannibal pulled a face. "Eww, no thank you," he retorted. "'Sides, just in case your dirtbag buddies decide to come help you out, they'll change their minds, believe me. Watch and learn, pal." The Colonel turned to his Sergeant. "B.A.?"

B.A. nodded, and crouched over the man he had knocked out. He grabbed the motionless body roughly and easily tossed him over one shoulder in a fireman's carry as he rose back up again. He then moved swiftly to the man Hannibal had knocked out, and repeated the same action, so that when the massive Sergeant stood, he held a henchman over each shoulder. B.A. proceeded to a shadowy corner, where he unceremoniously dumped the two men. Behind him, Face was dragging a struggling Garth towards the same corner, Hannibal following behind.

As if on cue, a door banged open somewhere above them, and the sound of boots clinking on the metal catwalk could be heard. A guard poked his head over the railing and squinted through the shadows. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he hollered, "Garth?"

From their hidden position, Hannibal winked at Garth. "You're gonna go out there now, and tell your buddy everything's fine. And here's the best part: the Lieutenant here is going to have a gun on you. You make one wrong move, and you're swiss cheese, got it?"

Garth's eyes shot daggers at the Colonel. Face could practically see steam rising from the man's ears as he considered his options. When he felt Garth's body go slightly limp with resignation, the Lieutenant released his hold on the man, then quickly grabbed the gun Hannibal handed him and pointed it at Garth.

Still furious, but aware that he had no other choice, Garth trudged from the shadows, stopping where the shadows receded and the light illuminated him enough to make him visible. He glanced behind him for a moment, and saw the glint of the silver-plated piece trained on him. He licked his lips and looked upwards. "Right here, Tommy," he finally called back. He waved an arm to get Tommy's attention.

Tommy's eyes settled on Garth. "Everything okay down there?"

"Yeah, fine," Garth bit out, trying to keep anger from his voice.

Tommy jerked a thumb at the area behind him. "Dude, the cameras are all out. What the hell are you doing down there?" he barked, his tone accusatory.

Garth again took a brief look behind him, finding a smug expression on Hannibal's face. Garth swallowed as he returned his gaze to Tommy. "Uh…" he stammered, wracking his brain desperately for a plausible explanation. "I, um… must have blown a fuse, I guess. I'll go check the fuse box."

Garth held his breath, certain he was seeing suspicion in the guard's expression. Seconds turned into hours, months, years.

At last, Tommy nodded. "Alright, go check it out. If nothing's blown though, you gotta let me know. Could be someone's on to us, and they're prepping for an attack."

Tommy failed to notice the immense sigh of release that escaped from Garth. "Don't worry, man. How could someone be on to us?" His voice dripped with a sarcasm that went unnoticed by Tommy.

"Hey, you never know," Tommy returned with a shrug, then turned and headed back in the direction from which he had come.

Face waited a moment until he heard the distant thud of a door closing, then stepped from the shadows, his gun still trained on his captive. "Nice work, Garth!" he declared with mock enthusiasm. "I oughta call you for my next movie."

Echoing his earlier response, Garth snapped, "Fuck you."

Hannibal and B.A. joined Face in the light. "Tsk, tsk," the Colonel clucked with disapproval. "Garth, Garth. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Garth smirked and looked positively venomous as he sneered, "No, but I kiss **your** mother with this mouth."

Hannibal's eyebrows raised in surprise, though every other part of him showed no outward reaction. "Really?" he replied evenly, taking a small step towards Garth. The Colonel smiled a very unsettling smile. Then, without warning, he drew back and fired a hard punch into Garth's gut.

Garth immediately doubled over, wheezing, gasping for air.

"Keep an eye on this scum, B.A.," Hannibal commanded, still puffing on his cigar. He waited for B.A. to nod, then turned to Face. "Shall we?" he asked, gesturing elaborately towards the back of the warehouse.

"Let's go," confirmed Face, his tone far more serious than Hannibal's.

The two men moved silently to the back of the room, stopping when they reached a large, sliding door. Face took position to the left of the door, placing his back against the wall and bending his elbows to bring the gun he carried up against his chest. He dipped his head down once to confirm to Hannibal that he was ready.

Hannibal clenched his cigar between his teeth and brought both hands, clad in black, leather gloves, to the thin cavity where the door met the wall. He hooked his fingers around the thick metal and drew the door back slowly.

The moment the door had slid open enough for Face to fit through, he straightened his arms and brought the gun out in front of him, stepping cautiously through the opening. He pivoted rapidly to the left, then to the right, his gun swinging with him in a wide arc, his keen eyes darting back and forth, scouring the room for enemies. He heard a toilet flush, and he scurried behind a nearby metal workbench, crouching low.

Hannibal slipped in behind the Lieutenant, his own gun now drawn. Face immediately brought a finger to his lips to signal the need for silence, beckoning rapidly with his other hand for the Colonel to join him in his covert position. Hannibal made almost no noise as he swiftly padded to a spot next to Face. His white hair disappeared from sight just seconds before a door on the far side of the room swung open, and a burly man emerged, tucking his shirt back into his pants as he stumbled towards a small round table in the center of the room. The table was covered in twinkie wrappers and crumpled beer cans, and an overflowing ash tray spilled ash and cigarette butts onto the surface.

The man flopped gracelessly into a metal folding chair at the table, swinging his legs up to prop his filthy boots on the table. He grabbed a half-empty tequila bottle off the table and took a lengthy swig. "How you doin' there, old man?" he called with clear amusement, lighting up a cigarette.

Face and Hannibal followed the man's line of sight. A tall, rusty shelving unit packed with broken tools and slowly disintegrating, water-damaged cardboard boxes stood between them and the spot the man at the table was looking at, but through gaps in the detritus, the two team members could make out the shape of a man tied to a chair. It was Charlie's father.

In response to the man at the table's question, a low, anguished moan drifted across the room.

A sick smile spread across the face of Rick's henchman, and he rose from his chair, gripping the bottle of tequila by its neck with one hand, his cigarette held between two fingers on his other hand. He strode to Charlie's father, and grabbed the prisoner's face by the chin, jerking his bruised and battered face upwards to look at his captor. "Aw, come on, old man, that ain't no proper answer. Ya gotta put some feeling behind it. Maybe this'll perk you up." A sadistic glint in his eye, the lackey pushed his cigarette against Mr. Burchell's forearm, holding it as the faint scent of burning flesh drifted across the room. Charlie's father erupted with a strangled, anguished scream.

"Time to put a stop to this," Hannibal hissed to Face, who nodded in agreement. They kept low as they crept along the wall until they were behind the man torturing Charlie's father. Agonizing screams filled the air, echoing and reverberating throughout the room. Now out of the henchman's line of sight, Face and Hannibal stood, and began silently creeping forward.

Each silent step across the room allowed both team members to see a little more of the scene unfolding behind the shelving unit until they finally had an unobstructed view of Charlie's father. Gauze was still looped around his head, as it had been in the photograph sent to Charlie, crimson blood-stains covering a good portion of the gauze. One eye was swollen shut, lost in a puffy myriad of sickly purple and blue bruises. He wore no shirt, revealing skin that was peppered with small, round circular burns and blisters, making it obvious that the burns he was currently being subjected to had happened habitually, and the practice had begun long before today. Perhaps most unsettling was the stark difference in weight between the picture Charlie had showed the team, and the broken man in front of Hannibal and Face. His skin was stretched taut over hollow cheeks and every single rib was visible on the severely emaciated man. His skin was decidedly grey. His eyes had deep purple smudges beneath them, and though his eyes were open, they were focused on nothing, glassy and dull as they stared without actually seeing anything.

The man looming over Charlie's father had just brought his cigarette back to his lips and was in the process of inhaling deeply to re-fire the glowing embers on the cigarette's tip when he felt a cool metal cylindrical shape push against the base of his skull. The cigarette dropped from his lips as he gasped in surprise. "I swear to God, Louie, if it's you fuckin' with me here…" the man snarled over his shoulder.

A grim smile slipped over Hannibal's face. "I'm not Louie," the Colonel said, his voice low and menacing. "I'm just a guy wondering how a coward like you would fare against a man who wasn't tied up."

The man swallowed, reluctantly raising his hands in half-hearted surrender. "You're dead, asshole," he sneered.

"Really?" returned Face. "And here I thought I was walking around alive and well."

Weary of the exchange, Hannibal took his free hand and grabbed the man's collar, yanking him backwards as he snapped, "This way, scum." He dragged the man past the table and towards the bathroom, the gun remaining flush against the henchman's back throughout.

Face meanwhile rushed forward and began grappling with the ropes binding the wrists of Charlie's father behind his back. The process was not a gentle one, and tiny hiccups of agony bubbled from the prisoner's lips. "Hang on, hang on," Face soothed, cringing as he realized the ropes had been tied so tight, they'd become embedded in the skin of Mr. Burchell's wrists. "Shit," breathed the Lieutenant as he assessed the damage.

A string of epithets from the other side of the room made Face look up. Hannibal had just finished tossing the lackey into the bathroom, and was slamming the door shut triumphantly. He lunged quickly forward and snatched the metal folding chair next to the table and lodged it at an angle between the bathroom doorknob and the floor. Moments later, the heavy door shook visibly as the man inside began to pound violently on it. "You mother… I'll kill you, ya hear? You're a dead man! Dead!"

"Time to go, Lieutenant!" chirped Hannibal, his characteristic smile reappearing.

"I'm going as fast as I can, Hannibal." Face finally managed to free Charlie's father from the last of the restraints, and carefully put an arm around the weakened man's waist, dragging him to his feet. Charlie's father groaned. "Sorry sir, but we gotta go," Face said apologetically. He struggled to pull Mr. Burchell along. Hannibal stepped in front of the pair. He leaned down and gently placed his hand on the shoulder of Charlie's father. "I know you're hurting, sir," he said, speaking with a slow, deliberate cadence. "We're gonna get you out of here, but you've gotta help us out some, okay? We need your best version of walking."

Charlie's father blinked, working to focus his eyes on the strange man with the cigar standing in front of him. He nodded weakly after a few moments. Face and Hannibal half-walked, half-dragged him back to the main room where B.A. stood with a vigilant stance. "Is that him?" the Sergeant called out as the two team members neared.

Hannibal nodded. "This is him!"

As the labouring trio continued to advance towards B.A., the extent of the damage done to Charlie's father slowly came into focus. "Jesus, what the hell did these suckers do to him?"

Face shook his head. "Don't ask."

Just as Hannibal and Face reached the Sergeant, a weak, tinny groan slipped from Mr. Burchell's lips, and he lost consciousness.

Hannibal and Face both quickly tightened their grip on Charlie's father to prevent him from falling over. "Damnit," muttered Hannibal.

Face brought two fingers to Mr. Burchell's neck and felt a weak, thready pulse. "Hannibal, we gotta get him to a hospital. He's malnourished and dehydrated; his heart could quit on him at any moment."

The Colonel nodded and paused for a moment of thought, drawing languidly on his cigar. "When a man shows up to a hospital looking like this, cops are the first people called in. It's too risky for one of us to take him. B.A., carry him to the van and let our accomplice drive him there instead. We'll rendezvous after." Hannibal deliberately kept Charlie's name from the command, knowing Garth was listening. "We'll wait for you to get back before we move to the next part of the plan."

"Roger that, Hannibal," B.A. returned. He knelt down to wrap his arms around Mr. Burchell's thighs, and lifted him carefully into yet another fireman's carry, albeit a far more cautious carry than he'd employed on Rick's two luckless guards earlier.

For the first time since they'd nabbed him, Garth's expression of murderous rage faltered, becoming tinged with a skittish nervousness. "Um… what's the next part of the plan?" he asked, all his earlier bravado completely absent from the question.

Hannibal guffawed melodramatically and waved his cigar like a vaudevillian barker. "Ah, all will be revealed, dear boy. You just sit tight, and we'll all wait together for B.A. to return."

As Hannibal delighted in the torment of Garth, B.A.'s powerful strides carried him to the main door of the building with remarkable speed. When he reached the door, he turned slightly and pushed it open with one hip.

*****

Charlie was sitting nervously in the van, restlessly tuning radio stations in and out as she searched for a distraction. She heard the hum of the chopper high above her, but purposely resisted poking her head out a window to look for it. Twisting the tuner, she heard the faint whine of a broadcast close to clear reception, and she delicately inched the knob back and forth until the hisses and pops disappeared, and a familiar song drifted through the speakers. Charlie didn't know whether to laugh or cry as Led Zeppelin's 'Fool in the Rain' flooded the van. It was the song she and Murdock had danced to on the cabin porch on a cool, breezy night that felt very distant now. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to indulge in the memory, just for a minute. _I think I knew it then_, she thought. _I knew then._

"Open up, Mama!"

Charlie jumped, severely startled by the unexpected interruption of B.A.'s booming command. She snapped her head to the right, and saw the Sergeant's massive head filling almost the entire frame of the van's passenger-side window. He had a man slung over his shoulder, but, unable to see the man's face, she couldn't tell who it was. "Hang on," she said, assuming it was Face or Hannibal who B.A. was holding. She hopped out of the van, cursing herself for ever having gotten the team mixed up in her mess. She skittered around the hood.

The moment she saw who B.A. was holding, however, she froze in her tracks, color draining from her face instantly. "Oh my God," she croaked, bringing her hand up to her mouth. "Oh, no. B.A., is he…?" Her voice hitched slightly and she couldn't finish the question.

B.A.'s reply was immediate. "He's okay, he's okay. He's alive."

Charlie's frame sagged with relief, and she exhaled breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She moved around the Sergeant to get a look at her father, and he heard her sharp intake of air as she got a look at the unconscious man's face. "Oh, Dad," she murmured, lovingly brushing back a sheath of hair that fell across his face.

B.A. cleared his throat. "Uh, Charlie?"

She suddenly realized B.A. was still holding her father. "Sorry," she said quickly, and slid open the van's side panel door. B.A. laid the man down gently across two seats in the middle of the van.

"What's wrong with him?" Charlie asked, unable to mask the fear in her voice.

B.A. stepped back from the van, and placed a massive hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "He'll be fine, Charlie, just fine. He was conscious when Hannibal and Face found him. He's just a little dehydrated, that's all." B.A. deliberately omitted Face's concern about the lack of food and water weakening Mr. Burchell's heart. "But we need you to take him to the hospital while we finish up with the punks inside." When Charlie's eyes widened at the word 'hospital', B.A. hastily added, "You know, he just needs his fluids topped up, that's all." He smiled reassuringly.

Charlie nodded absently, her focus still on her father.

"Okay Mama, you better get going," B.A. prodded gently when she continued to linger over her father.

After a moment, Charlie finally registered the Sergeant's words, and gave her head a shake as if to clear it. "Right," she confirmed, sliding the side door shut and turning to B.A. "Everything going to plan in there?" she thought to ask.

B.A. smiled wryly. "Never does, but we're doing just fine. We'll meet you back at the cabin." Then he was gone again, rushing back to his unit.

"Hang on, Dad," Charlie said over her shoulder as she hopped back up into the driver's seat. She dropped her foot heavily on the gas pedal, the van tires squealing in protest as she sped heedlessly from her parking spot. She'd never been a fan of speed limits anyway.

*****

"Dude, what the fuck took you so long in there?"

Louie yanked open the driver's side door of the parked Gremlin and huffed into the seat, squeezing his generous pot belly behind the steering wheel, tossing a cardboard box of donuts across the seats at the man who had just barked at him out the window. "I had to stand in line for your goddamn donuts, fatty. I woulda been outta there in two minutes, but **oh no**, fatty's gotta have doughnuts. A whole goddamned box of 'em."

The man next to Louie snapped, "Will you quit calling me that? My name is not 'fatty'."

Louie snorted as the other man began stuffing donuts into his mouth. "Oh, 'scuse me. 'Cause the name 'Gut' is so much better." His tone was blatantly sarcastic as he hung one arm out the car window and used the other to shift the car in gear.

"I like to think I got the nickname because I've got 'guts' You know, like, 'cause I'm brave." Gut looked proud, clearly having convincing himself.

Louie checked a side mirror for traffic. "Think again," he said snarkily before pulling into traffic. "Either way, we're late now to relieve the other guys. If Rick finds out, you can bet-"

He stopped short as Gut held a hand up. The fatter man squinted his eyes at a van parked in front of the warehouse, as he popped open the glove compartment and fished around for binoculars usually kept there for stakeouts and surveillance.

Louie pulled back over to the curb, and followed the other man's gaze as he tried to make out what he was seeing up the road. "What is it? Cops? Shit, man, if it's the goddamned fuzz, we're screwed."

Gut finally felt binoculars under his fingers and brought them to his eyes. The lenses were almost immediately filled by a huge, muscular man with a strange haircut. He appeared to be lugging a skinny, limp form over his shoulder. Gut felt dread began to gnaw at his formidable stomach. "Oh no. Oooooh no," he muttered.

Louie looked panicky. "What?! What?! Jesus Christ, fatty, what is it?!"

Gut lowered the binoculars and looked at Louie. "I told you not to call me-"

"_Gut!_"

Gut shrank a little at the sheer force of the other man's voice, looking perturbed as he responded, "I dunno, man. Some huge dude carrying a real skinny guy who I think was passed out."

"Not cops?"

Gut shook his head. "No, definitely not." Gut looked through the binoculars again, and began to narrate what he was seeing. "Alright, the big guy's carrying the little guy to the van. He's stopping at the passenger window. Driver door's opening, and- oh! Hot little redhead just jumped out! Okay, she's opening a side door on the van. Big guy's putting little skinny guy in the van. Little skinny guy's definitely unconscious. Big guy pats hot redhead on the shoulder. She shuts the van door. Big guy's headed back to the warehouse."

Listening to Gut's descriptions, something began nagging at Louie, some connection he was sure he was missing, but couldn't quite put his finger on. _Big guy… skinny guy… hot redhead. Maybe Rick hired someone new? And why is there a chick here? The guys all know we don't say nothin' about nothin' to nobody, and that goes double for girlfriends… so who's this broad? Rick ain't had a chick near the operation since-_ "Oh, **shit**," Louie blurted, his face losing a great deal of color as clarity dawned.

"What? What is it?" Gut did nothing to hide the anxiety he was feeling as he lowered the binoculars.

"It's gotta be Rick's bitch up there," Louie nearly yelled, gesturing wildly. "She must've found some help to save her old man. We were late for shift, and now she's driving off with our hostage!"

Gut looked dumbstruck. "What? No, that can't be… can it?"

"Of course it is, dumbass!" hollered Louie. "We weren't there when we were supposed to be, and now the whole operation is shot! You and your goddamned donuts!" he cried. He grabbed the cardboard box, now only half-full of donuts, and began to hit Gut over the head with it, annunciating each word carefully and punctuating each word with a blow to Gut's head using the box. "You! And! Your! God! Damn! Donuts! Fatty! You! And! Your! Fucking! Donuts!"

Gut threw up his arms and tried to defend himself, but found he wasn't very good at it. He finally managed to whimper, "Wait! Louie, wait! We can fix this!" The cardboard continued to crash down over his skull, so he raised the volume a little on his whimper and tried again. "Goddamn it, stop for a second, Louie! Louie! We can fix this!"

Louie finally paused, the now-mangled box in mid-swing over his head. His face was red and sweaty, and he was breathing hard as he appraised Gut with a withering look. "How can we fix it?" he seethed, clearly suspicious.

"Let's just go get her!" Gut suggested. "We follow the van, bring back her and her old man, and Rick never needs to know!"

Louie thought for a moment, then slowly lowered the box. "That… might work," he conceded, clearly still skeptical. "What about the big guy though?"

"We'll have to figure that out later. But we gotta nab her now, before we lose her."

Louie hesitated, chewing nervously on a fingernail, weighing his options. "Guess we don't have much choice," he finally conceded. He put the car in drive and pulled out into traffic. "You better hope this works though, fatty," he growled as Gut wrestled with his seatbelt.

Gut wisely said nothing.

*****

Back in the warehouse, B.A. rejoined Face and a positively giddy Hannibal.

"Everything good, B.A.?" Hannibal asked.

"All set, Hannibal," B.A. confirmed, crossing his arms over his massive chestA self-satisfied smile moved across Hannibal's face. "Perfect," he declared. "Time for phase two."

Still scowling and sulking, Garth looked up from his position on the floor. "Uh… what's phase two?" He cringed at the anxiety he heard in his own voice.

Hannibal clenched his cigar between his teeth and wiggled his eyebrows theatrically. "Oh, you're gonna love this, pal." The Colonel turned to B.A. and held out a gloved hand. "B.A?"

The Sergeant reached into a pocket in his camouflage pants and produced a small black box. A little red light in the centre of the device blinked at a slow, even pace.

Hannibal took the box B.A. pressed into his hand, his lips curving upwards as he extended a small antennae from the top of the device. Speaking around the cigar in his mouth, he said, "Ah, Garth, you are **really** gonna love this part." He crouched down, bringing his face inches from Garth's. "See," he began gesturing briefly to Face. "When the Lieutenant there was threatening you with a hug, I took the opportunity to slide a couple explosives into the middle of each of those stacks of flammable drums you've got set up real nice around the room."

Garth swallowed nervously, his eyes flicking to the locations Hannibal referred to.

"Those drums look real heavy too, pal. I'm guessing you moved 'em with a forklift, right? I mean, unless you've got your own B.A."

The Sergeant stepped forward, looming threateningly above Garth. "Ain't nobody got their own B.A.," he growled.

Hannibal looked up and nodded, then turned back. "That's right," he said with a nod and a cocky grin. "So I think we can all agree that it would take quite a while to get at those explosives, right?" Without waiting for a reply, Hannibal slowly brought the black box up between his face and Garth's. He gave it a little shake. "So I'm gonna push a button on this box in a second. After I push it, you'll have three minutes before this whole place goes up. Now," Hannibal said, straightening and taking a long drag on his cigar. "You'll have a couple choices once the timer on those explosives start. You could come after us, but once we start this thing, there's no stopping it. You might catch us, but you'll be catching enough shrapnel to kill an elephant too." The Colonel puffed away, enjoying himself immensely. "You could also run away and save yourself, but everyone else in here will wind up in pieces." He paused thoughtfully for a moment. "I could be wrong, but I think that'd make the boss real mad. And it seems like an awful waste to save your own life, then have the boss take it anyway."

Garth had no doubt that if he bailed and left a major portion of Rick's crew to die, he'd be digging his own grave in no time at all.

Confident he'd convinced Garth not to leave all the men in the warehouse to die, the Colonel eagerly continued. "And then there's a third option, and this one," Hannibal pointed upwards with his index finger the way a man might do while saying, 'eureka!' "This one comes highly recommended. You can sound the alarm and get everyone out so no one gets hurt. You can tell your buddies upstairs to get out, but you'll have to drag out Moe and Larry here on your own," Hannibal said, lifting his chin to gesture towards the two henchmen still unconscious on the floor. Smoke hung in the air around Hannibal. "You'll find Curly in the bathroom in the back room." Hannibal inhaled deeply and laughed heartily. "Well, Garth, I hate to hit and run, but my friends and I have got to go now. Send us a post card and let us know what happens, alright?"

Hannibal looked at Face and B.A. Both of them nodded, and turned towards a rusty metal ladder in a corner. Hannibal backed up towards the ladder as well, but kept his gun trained steadily on Garth as he moved.

B.A. and Face climbed the ladder to the metal catwalk above. Face was first to reach the catwalk and clambered to his feet, scanning the upper level until he saw a door marked "Stairs to Roof" off a nearby corner of the catwalk, and he sighed with immense relief; the blueprints had suggested a stairwell climbing beyond the upper floor, but there had been no way to know for certain if it had been walled off or changed through renovations. He pulled a walkie talkie from his back pocket and pressed the talk button. "You ready up there, Captain?"

"Ready, willing, and able!" Murdock replied with excitement.

Hannibal's head popped over the top of the ladder and he climbed onto the catwalk.

"Murdock's all set," Face informed the Colonel.

Hannibal nodded and turned back to face Garth. He lifted the remote detonator and held it above his head. "Don't forget, buddy: three minutes!" he called, and made a big show of pushing the button. The Colonel pivoted towards his two team mates. "We got a door?"

Face grinned and pointed. "Right there, Hannibal."

"I love it when a plan comes together," Hannibal declared jubilantly, and all three men ran off down the catwalk, unaware of just how short-lived their shared sense of victory would be.


End file.
